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UNTO  THIS  LAST. 


I 

1 


4 


1 


UNTO  THIS  LAST:” 


(( 


£oat  (Sssajjs 


ON  THE  FIRST  PRINCIPLES  OP 


POLITICAL  ECONOMY. 


' BY 

JOHN  EUSKIN. 


NEW  YORK  : 

JOHN  WILEY  & SON, 

15  ASTOR  PLACE. 

1875. 


rc3  1H3  L, 


3^0 


“friend,  I DO  THEE  NO  WRONG.  DID’ST  NOT  THOU  AGREE  WITH  ME  FOR 
PENNY?  TAKE  THAT  THINE  IS,  AND  GO  THY  WAY.  I WILL  GIVE  UNTO 
IIS  LAST  EVEN  AS  UNTO  THEE.” 


“if  ye  THINK  GOOD,  GIVE  MB' MY  PRICE;  AND  IP  NOT,  FORBEAR.  SO 
THEY  WEIGHED  FOR  MY  PRICE  THIRTY  PIECES  OF  SILVER.” 


V 


‘j?r 


PREFACE. 


The  four  following  essays  were  published  eighteen  months 
ago  in  the  Cornliill  Magazine^  and  were  reprobated  in  a vio- 
lent manner,  as  far  as  I could  hear,  by  most  of  the  readers 
they  met  with. 

. Kot  a whit  the  less,  I believe  them  to  be  the  best,  that  is 
to  say,  the  truest,  rightest-worded,  and  most  serviceable 
things  I have  ever  written  ; and  the  last  of  them,  having 
had  especial  pains  spent'  on  it,  is  probably  the  best  I shall 
ever  write. 

“ This,”  the  reader  may  reply,  “ it  might  be,  yet  not 
therefore  well  written.”  Which,  in  no  mock  humility, 
admitting,  I yet  rest  satisfied  with  the  work,  though  with 
nothing  else  that  I have  done ; and  purposing  shortly  to 
follow  out  the  subjects  opened  in  these  papers,  as  I may 
find  leisure,  I wish  the  introductory  statements  to  be  with- 
in the  reach  of  any  one  who  may  care  to  refer  to  them. 
So  I republish  the  essays  as  they  appeared.  One  word 
only  is  changed,  correcting  the  estimate  of  a weight ; and 
no  word  is  added. 

Although,  however,  I find  nothing  to  modify  in  these 


Viii  PREFACE. 

papers,  it  is  matter  of  regret  to  me  that  the  most  startling 
of  all  the  statements  in  them, — that  respecting  the  necessity 
of  the  organization  of  labour,  with  fixed  wages, — should 
have  found  its  way  into  the  first  essay ; it  being  quite  one 
of  the  least  important,  though  by  no  means  , the  least  cer- 
tain, of  the  positions  to  be  defended.  The  real  gist  of  these 
papers,  their  central  meaning  and  aim,  is  to  give,  as  I 
believe' for  the  first  time  in  plain  English, — it  has  often 
been  incidentally  given  in  good  Grreek  by  Plato  and  Xeno- 
phon, and  good  Latin  by  Cicero  and  Horace, — a logical 
definition  of  wealth:  such  definition  being  absolutely 
needed  for  a basis  of  economical  science.  The  most  reput- 
ed essay  on  that  subject  which  has  appeared  in  modern 
times,  after  opening  with  the  statement  that  “ writers  on 
political  economy  profess  to  teach,  or  to  investigate,*  the 
nature  of  wealth,”  thus  follows  up  the  declaration  of  its 
thesis — “ Every  one  has  a notion,  sufficiently  correct  for 
common  purposes,  of  what  is  meant  by  wealth.”  . . . “ It 
is  no  part  of  the  design  of  this  treatise  to  aim  at  metaphy- 
sical nicety  of  definition.f  ” 

Metaphysical  nicety,  we  assuredly  do  not  need ; but 
physical  nicety,  and  logical  accuracy,  with  respect  to  a phy- 
sical subject,  we  as  assuredly  do. 

* Which?  for  where  investigation  'is  necessary,  teaching  is  impos- 
sible. 

t Principles  of  Political  Economy.  By  J.  S.  Mill.  Prehminary 
remarks,  p.  2. 


TREFACE. 


ix 


Suppose  the  subject  of  inquiry,  instead  of  being  House 
law  {Ollconomia\  had  been  Star-law  {Astronomia)^  and  that, 
ignoring  distinction  between  stars  fixed  and  wandering,  as 
here  between  wealth  radiant  and  wealth  reflective,  the 
writer  had  begun  thus:  “Everyone  has  a notion,  suffi- 
ciently correct  for  common  purposes,  of  what  is  meant  by 
stars.  Metaphysical  nicety  in  the  definition  of  a star  is  not 
the  object  of  this  treatise — the  essay  so  opened  might 
yet  have  been  far  more  true  in  its  final  statements,  and  a 
thousand-fold  more  serviceable  to  the  navigator,  than  any 
treatise  on  wealth,  which  founds  its  conclusions  on  the 
popular  conception  of  wealth,  can  ever  become  to  the 
economist. 

It  was,  therefore,  the  first  object  of  these  following 
papers  to  give  an  accurate  and  stable  definition  of  wealth. 
Their  second  object  was  to  show  that  the  acquisition  of 
wealth  was  finally  possible  only  under  certain  moral  con- 
ditions of  society,  of  which  quite  the  first  was  a belief  in 
the  existence  and  even,  for  practical  purposes,  in  the  attain- 
ability of  honesty. 

Without  venturing  to  pronounce — since  on  such  a matter 
human,  judgment  is  by  no  means  conclusive — what  is,  or 
is  not,  the  noblest  of  God’s  works,  we  may  yet  adroit  so 
much  of  Pope’s  assertion  as  that  an  honest  man  is  among 
His  best  works  presently  visible,  and,  as  things  stand,  a 
somewhat  rare  one ; but  not  an  incredible  or  miraculous 

1* 


X 


PREFACE. 


work ; still  less  an  abnormal  one.  Honesty  is  not  a dis- 
turbing force,  wbich  deranges  the  orbits  of  economy  ; but 
a consistent  and  commanding  force,  by  obedience  to  wbich 
— and  by  no  other  obedience — ^those  orbits  can  continue 
clear  of  chaos. 

It  is  true,  I have  sometimes  heard  Pope  condemned  for 
the  lowness,  instead  of  the  height,  of  his  standard : — “ Hon- 
esty is  indeed  a respectable  virtue  ; but  how  much  higher 
may  men  attain  ! Shall  nothing  more  be  asked  of  us  than 
that  we  be  honest  ? ” 

For  the  present,  good  friends,  nothing.  It  seems  that  in 
our  aspirations  to  be  more  than  that,  we  have  to  some 
extent  lost  sight  of  the  propriety  of  being  so  much  as  that. 
What  else  we  may  have  lost  faith  in,  there  shall  be  here  no 
question ; but  assuredly  we  have  lost  faith  in  common  hon- 
esty, and  in  the  working  power  of  it.  And  this  faith,  with 
the  facts  on  which  it  may  rest,  it  is  quite  our  first  business 
to  recover  and  keep : not  only  believing,  but  even  by 
experience  assuring  ourselves,  that  there  are  yet  in  the 
world  men  who  can  be  restrained  from  fraud  otherwise 
than  by  the  fear  of  losing  employment  nay,  that  it  is  even 
accurately  in  proportion  to  the  number  of  such  men  in  any 
State,  that  the  said  State  does  or  can  prolong  its  existence. 

* “ The  effectual  discipline  which  is  exercised  over  a workman  is 
not  that  of  his  corporation,  but  of  his  customers.  It  is  the  fear  of 
losing  their  employment  which  restrains  his  frauds,  and  corrects  his 
negligence.”  {Wealth  of  Nations^  Book  I.  chap.  10.) 


PREFACE. 


XI 


To  these  two  points,  then,  the  following  essays  are  main- 
ly directed.  The  subject  of  the  organization  of  labour  is 
only  casually  touched  upon ; because,  if  we  once  can  get  a 
sufficient  quantity  of  honesty  in  our  captains,  the  organiza- 
tion of  labour  is  easy,  and  will  develop  itself  without  quar- 
rel or  difficulty;  but  if  we  cannot  get  honesty  in  our 
captains,  the  organization  of  labour  is  for  evermore  impos- 
sible. 

The  several  conditions  of  its  possibility  I purpose  to 
examine  at  length  in  the  sequel.  Yet,  lest  the  reader 
should  be  alarmed  by  the  hints  thrown  out  during  the  fol- 
lowing investigation  of  first  principles,  as  if  they  were  lead- 
ing him  into  unexpectedly  dangerous  ground,  I will,  for 
his  better  assurance,  state  at  once  the  worst  of  the  political 
creed  at  which  I wish  him  to  arrive. 

1.  First, — that  there  should  be  training  schools  for  youth 
— established,  at  Government  cost,*  and  under  Government 
discipline,  over  the  whole  country ; that  every  child  born 
in  the  country  should,  at  the  parent’s  wish,  be  permitted 
(and,  in  certain  cases,  be  under  penalty  required)  to  pass 

* It  will  probably  be  inquired  by  near-sighted  persons,  out  of  what 
funds  such  schools  could  be  supported.  The  expedient  modes  of  direct 
provision  for  them  I will  examine  hereaf  er;  indirectly,  they  would  be 
far  more  than  self-supporting.  The  economy  in  crime  alone,  (quite 
one  of  the  most  costly  articles  of  luxury  in  the  modern  European  mar- 
ket,) which  such  schools  would  induce,  would  suffice  to  support  them 
ten  times  over.  Their  economy  of  labour  would  be  pure  gain,  and 
that  too  large  to  be  presently  calculable. 


XU 


PREFACE. 


through  theru ; and  that,  in  these  schools,  the  child  should 
(with  other  minor  pieces  of  knowledge  hereafter  to  be  con- 
sidered) imperatively  be  taught,  with  the  best  skill  of  teach- 
ing that  the  country  could  produce,  the  following  three 
things : — 

(a)  the  laws  of  health,  and  the  exercises  enjoined  by 
them  ; 

{b)  habits  of  gentleness  and  justice ; and 

(c)  the  calling  by  which  he  is  to  live. 

2.  Secondly, — that,  in  connection  with  these  training 
schools,  there  should  be  established,  also  entirely  under 
Government  regulation,  manufactories  and  workshops,  for 
the  production  and  sale  of  every  necessary  of  life,  and  for 
the  exercise  of  every  useful  art.  And  that,  interfering  no 
whit  with  private  enterprise,  nor  setting  any  restraints  or 
tax  on  private  trade,  but  leaving  both  to  do  their  best,  and 
beat  the  Government  if  they  could, — there  should,  at  these 
Government  manufactories  and  shops,  be  authoritatively 
good  and  exemplary  work  done,  and  pure  and  true  sub- 
stance sold;  so  that  a man  could  be  sure,  if  he  chose  to 
pay  the  Government  price,  that  he  got  for  his  money  bread 
that  was  bread,  ale  that  was  ale,  and  work  that  was 
work. 

3.  Thirdly, — that  any  man,  or  woman,  or  boy,  or  girl, 
out  of  employment,  should  be  at  once  received  at  the  near- 
est Government  school,  and  set  to  such  work  as  it  appeared, 
on  trial,  they  were  fit  for,  at  a fixed  rate  of  wages  deter- 


PREFACE. 


xiii 

niinable  every  year: — that,  being  found  incapable  of  work 
through  ignorance,  they  should  be  taught,  or  being  found 
incapable  of  work  through  sickness,  should  be  tended  ; but 
that  being  found  objecting  to  work,  they  should  be  set, 
under  compulsion  of  the  strictest  nature,  to  the  more  pain- 
ful and  degrading  forms  of  necessary  toil,  especially  to  that 
in  mines  and  other  places  of  danger  (such  danger  being, 
however,  diminished  to  the  utmost  by  careful  regulation 
and  discipline)  and  the  due  wages  of  such  work  be  retain- 
ed— cost  of  compulsion  first  abstracted — to  be  at  the  work- 
man’s command,  so  soon  as  he  has  come  to  sounder  mind 
respecting  the  laws  of  employment. 

4.  Lastly, — that  for  the  old  and  destitute,  comfort  and 
home  should  be  provided;  which  provision,  when  misfor- 
tune had  been  by  the  working  of  such  a system  sifted  from 
guilt,  would  be  honourable  instead  of  disgraceful  to  the 
receiver.  For  (I  repeat  this  passage  out  of  my  Political 
Economy  of  Art^  to  which  the  reader  is  referred  for  farther 
detail  “a  labourer  serves  his  country  with  his  spade,  just 
as  a man  in  the  middle  ranks  of  life  serves  it  with  sword, 
]Den,  or  lancet.  If  the  service  be  less,  and,  therefore,  the 
wages  during  health  less,  then  the  reward  when  health  is 
broken  may  be  less,  but  not  less  honourable;  and  it  ought 
to  be  quite  as  natural  and  straightforward  a matter  for  a 
labourer  to  take  his  pension  from  his  parish,  because  he 
has  deserved  well  of  his^  parish,  as  for  a man  in  higher  rank 


* Addenda,  p.  102. 


XIV 


PEEFACE. 


to  take  his  pension  from  his  country,  because  he  has 
deserved  well  of  his  country.” 

To  which  statement,  I will  only  add,  for  conclusion, 
respecting  the  discipline  and  pay  of  life  and  death,  that,  for 
both  high  and  low,  Livy’s  last  words  touching  Valerius 
Publicola,  de  publico  est  elatus^'^  ought  not  to  be  a dis- 
honourable close  of  epitaph. 

These  things,  then,  I believe,  and  am  about,  as  I find 
power,  to  explain  and  illustrate  in  their  various  bearings ; 
following  out  also  what  belongs  to  them  of  collateral  inqui- 
ry. Here  I state  them  only  in  brief,  to  prevent  the  reader 
casting  about  in  alarm  for  my  ultimate  meaning;  yet 
requesting  him,  for  the  present,  to  remember,  that  in  a sci- 
ence dealing  with  so  subtle  elements  as  those  of  human 
nature,  it  is  only  possible  to  answer  for  the  final  truth  of 
principles,  not  for  the  direct  success  of  plans  : and  that  in 
the  best  of  these  last,  what  can  be  immediately  accomplish- 
ed is  always  questionable,  and  what  can  be  finally  accom- 
plished, inconceivable. 

* “ P.  Yalerius,  omnium  consensu  princeps  belli  pacisque  artibus, 
anno  post  moritur;  gloria  ingenti,  copiis  familiaribus  adeo  exiguis,  ut 
funeri  sumtus  deesset:  de  publico  est  elatus.  Luxere  matronse  ut 
Brutum.” — Lib.  IE.  c.  xvi. 


Denmarh  Hill,  Kith  May,  1862. 


CONTENTS. 


ESSAY  page 

I. — The  Roots  of  Honour  . . • . . . .17 

II. — The  Veins  of  Wealth 43 

63 


III.  — Qui  JUDICATIS  TeRRAM 

IV.  — Ad  Valorem  . 


90 


UNTO  THIS  LAST” 


U 


ESSAY  I. 

THE  ROOTS  OF  HONOUR, 

Among  the  delusions  which  at  different  periods  have  pos- 
sessed themselves  of  the  minds  of  large  masses  of  the  human 
race,  perhaps  the  most  curious — certainly  the  least  creditable 
—-is  the  modern  soi-disant  science  of  political  economy, 
based  on  the  idea  that  an  advantageous  code  of  social  action 
may  be  determined  irrespectively  of  the  influence  of  social 
affection. 

Of  course,  as  in  the  instances  of  alchemy,  astrology,  witch- 
craft, and  other  such  populai'  creeds,  political  economy  has  a 
plausible  idea  at  the  root  of  it.  “ The  social  affections,”  says 
the  economist,  “ are  accidental  and  disturbing  elements  in 
human  nature;  but  avarice  and  the  desire  of  progress  are 
constant  elements.  Let  us  eliminate  the  inconstants,  and, 
considering  the  human  being  merely  as  a covetous  machine, 
examine  by  what  laws  of  labour,  purchase,  and  sale,  the 
greatest  accumulative  result  in  wealth  is  attainable.  Those 


18 


THE  ROOTS  OF  HONOUR. 


laws  once  determined,  it  will  be  for  each  individual  after- 
wards to  introduce  as  much  of  the  disturbing  affectionate 
element  as  he  chooses,  and  to  determine  for  himself  the 
result  on  the  new  conditions  supposed.” 

This  would  be  a perfectly  logical  and  successful  method 
of  analysis,  if  the  accidentals  afterwards  to  be  introduced 
were  of  the  same  nature  as  the  powers  first  examined. 
Supposing  a body  in  motion  to  be  influenced  by  constant 
and  inconstant  forces,  it  is  usually  the  simplest  way  of 
examining  its  course  to  trace  it  first  under  the  persistent 
conditions,  and  afterwards  introduce  the  causes  of  variation. 
But  the  disturbing  elements  in  the  social  problem  are  not 
of  the  same  nature  as  the  constant  ones;  they  alter  the 
essence  of  the  creature  under  examination  the  moment 
they  are  added;  they  operate,  not  mathematically,  but 
chemically,  introducing  conditions  which  render  all  our 
previous  knowledge  unavailable.  We  made  learned  experi- 
ments upon  pure  nitrogen,  and  have  convinced  ourselves 
that  it  is  a very  manageable  gas:  but  behold!  the  thing 
which  we  have  practically  to  deal  with  is  its  chloride ; and 
this,  the  moment  we  touch  it  on  our  established  principles, 
sends  us  and  our  apparatus  through  the  ceiling. 

Observe,  I neither  impugn  nor  doubt  the  conclusions  of 
the  science,  if  its  terms  are  accepted.  I am  simply  unin- 
terested in  them,  as  I should  be  in  those  of  a science  of 


THE  BOOTS  OF  HONOUR. 


19 


gymnastics  which  assumed  that  men  had  no  skeletons.  It 
might  be  shown,  on  that^  supposition,  that  it  would  be 
advantageous  to  roll  the  students  up  into  pellets,  flatten 
them  into  cakes,  or  stretch  them  into  cables;  and  that 
when  these  results  were  effected,  the  re  insertion  of  the 
skeleton  would  be  attended  with  various  inconveniences  to 
their  constitution.  The  reasoning  might  be  admirable,  the 
conclusions  true,  and  the  science  deficient  only  in  applica- 
bility. Modern  political  economy  stands  on  a precisely 
similar  basis.  Assuming,  not  that  the  human  being  has 
no  skeleton,  but  that  it  is  all  skeleton,  it  founds  an  ossi- 
fiant  theory  of  progress  on  this  negation  of  a soul ; and 
having  shown  the  utmost  that  may  be  made  of  bones,  and 
constructed  a number  of  interesting  geometrical  figures 
with  death’s-heads  and  humeri,  successfully  proves  the 
inconvenience  of  the  reappearance  of  a soul  among  these 
corpuscular  structures.  I do  not  deny  the  truth  of  this 
theory:  I simply  deny  its  applicability  to  the  present  phase 
of  the  world. 

This  inapplicability  has  been  curiously  manifested  during 
the  embarrassment  caused  by  the  late  strikes  of  our  work- 
men. Here  occurs  one  of  the  simplest  cases,  in  a per- 
tinent and  positive  form,  of  the  first  vital  problem  -which 
p>olitical  economy  has  to  deal  with  (the  relation  between 
employer  and  employed) ; and  at  a severe  crisis,  when 


20 


THE  BOOTS  OF  HONOUR. 


lives  in  multitudes,  and  wealth  m masses,  are  at  stake,  the 
political  economists  are  helpless-^-practically  mute ; no  demon- 
strable solution  of  the  difficulty  can  be  given  by  them, 
such  as  may  convince  or  calm  the  opposing  parties.  Obsti- 
nately the  masters  take  one  view  of  the  matter ; obstinately 
the  oj)eratives  another;  and  no  political  science  can  set 
them  at  one. 

It  would  be  strange  if  it  could,  it  being  not  by  “science” 
of  any  kind  that  men  were  ever  intended  to  be  set  at  one. 
Disputant  after  disputant  vainly  strives  to  show  that  the 
interests  of  the  masters  are,  or  are  not,  antagonistic  to  those 
of  the  men : none  of  the  pleaders  ever  seeming  to  remember 
that  it  does  not  absolutely  or  always  follow  that  the  persons 
must  be  antagonistic  because  their  interests  are.  If  there 
is  only  a crust  of  bread  in  the  house,  and  mother  and  chil- 
dren are  starving,  their  interests  are  not  the  same.  K the 
mother  eats  it,  the  children  want  it;  if  the  children  eat  it, 
the  mother  must  go  hungry  to  her  work.  Yet  it  does  not 
necessarily  follow  that  there  will  be  “ antagonism  ” between 
them,  that  they  will  fight  for  the  crust,  and  that  the  mother, 
being  strongest,  will  get  it,  and  eat  it.  Neither,  in  any  other 
case,  whatever  the  relations  of  the  persons  may  be,  can  it 
be  assumed  for  certain  that,  because  their  interests  are 
diverse,  they  must  necessarily  regard  each  other  with  hos- 
tility, and  use  violence  or  cunning  to  obtain  the  advantage. 


THE  ROOTS  OF  HONOUR. 


21 


Even  if  tins  were  so,  and  it  were  as  just  as  it  is  convei  ient 
to  consider  men  as  actuated  by  no  other  moral  influences 
than  those  which  afiect  rats  or  swine,  the  logical  conditions 
of  the  question  are  still  indeterminable.  It  can  never  be 
shown  generally  either  that  the  interests  of  master  and  la- 
bourer are  alike,  or  that  they  are  Opposed ; for,  according  to 
circumstances,  they  may  be  either.  It  is,  indeed,  always  the 
interest  of  both  that  the  work  should  be  rightly  done,  and 
a just  price  obtained  for  it;  but,  in  the  division  of  ]3rofits, 
the  gain  of  the  one  may  or  may  not  be  the  loss  of  the  otlier. 
It  is  not  the  master’s  interest  to  pay  wages  so  low  as  to  leave 
the  men  sickly  and  depressed,  nor  the  workman’s  interest 
to  be  paid  high  wages  if  the  smallness  of  the  master’s  profit 
hinders  him  from  enlarging,his  business,  or  conducting  it  in 
a safe  and  liberal  way.  A stoker  ought  not  to  desire  high 
pay  if  the  company  is  too  poor  to  keep  the  engine-wheels  in 
repair. 

And  the  varieties  of  circumstances  which  influence  these 
reciprocal  interests  are  so  endless,  that  all  endeavour  to 
deduce  rules  of  action  from  balance  of  expediency  is  in  vain. 
And  it  is  meant  to  be  in  vain.  For  no  human  actions  ever 
were  intended  by  the  Maker  of  men  to  be  guided  by  balances 
of  expediency,  but  by  balances  of  justice.  He  has  therefore 
rendered  all  endeavours  to  determine  expediency  futile  for 
evermore.  No  man  ever  knew,  or  can  know,  what  will  be 


22 


THE  EOOTS  OF  HONOUR. 


the  ultimate  result  to  himself,  or  to  others,  of  any  given  lino 
of  conduct.  But  every  man  may  know,  and  most  of  us  do 
know,  what  is  a just  and  unjust  act.  And  all  of  us  may  know 
also,  that  the  consequences  of  justice  will  he  ultimately  th 
best  possible,  both  to  others  and  ourselves,  though  we  can 
neither  say  what  is  best,  nor  how  it  is  likely  to  come  to  pass. 

I have  said  balances  of  justice,  meaning,  in  the  term  jus- 
tice, to  include  affection, — such  affection  as  one  man  owes 
to  another.  All  right  relations  between  master  and  opera- 
tive, and  all  their  best  interests,  ultimately  depend  on  these. 

We  shall  find  the  best  and  simplest  illustration  of  the 
relations  of  master  and  operative  in  the  position  of  domestic 
servants. 

We  will  suppose  that  the  master  of  a household  desire? 
only  to  get  as  much  work  out  of  his  servants  as  he  can,  at 
the  rate  of  wages  he  gives.  He  never  allows  them  to  be 
idle  ; feeds  them  as  poorly  and  lodges  them  as  ill  as  they 
will  endure,  and  in  all  things  pushes  his  requirements  to  the 
exact  point  beyond  which  he  cannot  go  without  Ibrcing  the 
servant  to  leave  him.  In  doing  this,  there  is  no  violation  on 
his  part  of  what  is  commonly  called  “justice.”  He  agrees 
with  the  domestic  for  his  whole  time  and  service,  and  takes 
them  ; the  limits  of  hardshipan  treatment  being  fixed  by  the 
practice  of  other  masters  in  his  neighbourhood ; that  is  to 
say,  by  the  current  rate  of  wages  for  domestic  labour.  If  the 


THE  ROOTS  OF  HONOUR. 


23 


servant  can  get  a bett»T  place,  he  is  free  to  take  one,  and 
the  master  can  only  tell  what  is  the  real  market  value  of  his 
labour,  by  requiring  as  much  as  he  will  give. 

This  is  the  politico-economical  view  of  the  case,  according 
to  the  doctors  of  that  science ; who  assert  that  by  this  proce- 
dure the  greatest  average  of  work  will  be  obtained  from  the 
servant,  and  therefore,  the  greatest  benefit  to  the  commu- 
nity, and  through  the  community,  by  reversion,  to  the  servant 
himself. 

That,  however,  is  not  so.  It  would  be  so  if  the  servant 
were  an  engine  of  which  the  motive  power  was  steam,  mag- 
netism, gravitation,  or  any  other  agent  of  calculable  force. 
But  he  being,  on  the  contrary,  an  engine  whose  motive 
power  is  a Soul,  the  force  of  this  very  peculiar  agent,  as  an 
unknown  quantity,  enters  into  all  the  political  economist’s 
equations,  without  his  knowledge,  and  falsifies  every  one  of 
their  results.  The  largest  quantity  of  work  will  not  be  done 
by  this  curious  engine  for  pay,  or  under  pressure,  or  by  help 
of  any  kind  of  fuel  which  may  be  applied  by  the  chaldron. 
It  will  be  done  only  when  the  motive  force,  that  is  to  say, 
the  will  or  spirit  of  the  creature,  is  brought  to  its  greatest 
strength  by  its  own  proper  fuel ; namely,  by  the  aflfcctions. 

It  may  indeed  happen,  and  does  happen  often,  that  if  the 
master  is  a man  of  sense  and  energy,  a large  quantity  of 
material  work  may  be  done  under  mechanical  pressure, 


24 


THE  BOOTS  OF  HONOUR. 


enforced  by  strong  will  and  guided  by  wise  method;  also 
it  may  happen,  and  does  happen  often,  that  if  the  master  is  ' 
indolent  and  weak  (however  good-natured),  a very  small 
quantity  of  work,  and  that  bad,  may  be  produced  by  the 
servant’s  undirected  strength,  and  contemptuous  gratitude. 
But  the  universal  law  of  the  matter  is  that,  assuming  any 
given  quantity  of  energy  and  sense  in  master  and  servant, 
the  greatest  material  result  obtainable  by  them  will  be,  not 
through  antagonism  to  each  other,  but  through  affection  for 
each  other ; and  that  if  the  master,  instead  of  endeavouring 
to  get  as  much  work  as  possible  from  the  servant,  seeks 
rather  to  render  his  appointed  and  necessary  work  beneficial 
to  him,  and  to  forward  his  interests  in  all  just  and  wholesome 
ways,  the  real  amount  of  work  ultimately  done,  or  of  g>)od 
rendered,  by  the  person  so  cared  for,  will  indeed  be  the 
greatest  possible. 

Observe,  I say,  “ of  good  rendered,”  for  a servant’s  work 
is  not  necessarily  or  always  the  best  thing  he  can  give  his 
master.  But  good  of  all  kinds,  whether  in  material  service, 
in  protective  watchfulness  of  his  master’s  interest  and  credit,  ^ 
or  in  joyful  readiness  to  seize  unexpected  and  irregular  occa 
sions  of  help. 

I^or  is  this  one  whit  less  generally  true  because  indulgence 
will  be  frequently^bused,  and  kindness  met  with  ingratitude. 
For  the  servant  who,  gently  treated,  is  ungrateful,  treated 


THE  ROOTS  OF  HONOUR. 


25 


ungently,  will  be  revengeful ; and  the  man  who  is  dishonest 
to  a liberal  master  will  be  injurious  to  an  unjust  one. 

In  any  case,  and  with  any  person,  this  unselfish  treatment 
will  ]3i*oduce  the  most  effective  return.  Observe,  I am  hei  e 
considering  the  affections  whollv  n -motive  • • not  at 

all  as  things  in  themselves  desirable  or  noble,  or  in  any  other 
way  abstractedly  good.  I look  at  them  simply  as  an  anoma- 
lous force,  rendering  every  one  of  the  ordinary  jiolitical  eco- 
nomist’s calculations  nugatory ; while,  even  if  he  desired  to 
introduce  this  new  element  into  his  estimates,  he  has  no 
power  of  dealing  with  it ; for  the  affections  only  become  a 
true  motive  power  when  they  ignore  every  other  motive  and 
condition  of  political  economy.  Treat  the  servant  kindly, 
with  the  idea  of  turning  his  gratitude  to  account,  and  you 
will  get,  as  you  deserve,  no  gratitude,  nor  any  value  for  your 
kindness  ; but  treat  him  kindly  without  any  economical  pur- 
pose, and  all  economical  purposes  will  be  answered ; in  this, 
as  in  all  other  matters,  whosoever  will  save  his  life  shall  lose 
it,  and  whoso  loses  it  shall  find  it.* 

* The  difference  between  the  two  modes  of  treatment,  and  between  their 
effective  material  results,  may  be  seen  very  accurately  by  a comparison  of 
the  relations  of  Esther  and  Charlie  in  Bleak  House,  with  those  of  iilisa 
Brass  and  the  Marchioness  in  Master  Humphrey's  Clock. 

The  essential  value  and  truth  of  Dickens’s  witings  have  been  unwisely 

lost  sight  of  by  many  thoughtful  persons,  merely  because  he  presents  .hia 
2 


26 


THE  ROOTS  OF  HONOUR* 


The  next  clearest  and  simplest  example  of  relation  between 
master  and  operative  is  that  which  exists  between  the  com- 
mander of  a regiment  and  his  men. 

Supposing  the  officer  only  desires  to  apply  the  rules  of  dis- 
cipline SO  as,  with  least  trouble  to  himself,  to  make  the  regi- 
ment most  effective,  he  will  not  be  able,  by  any  rules,  or 
administration  of  rules,  on  this  selfish  principle,  to  develop 

truth  with  some  colour  of  caricature.  Unwisely,  because  Dickens’s  carica- 
ture, though  often  gross,  is  never  mistaken.  Allowing  for  his  manner  of 
telling  them,  the  things  he  teUs  us  are  always  true.  I wish  that  he  could 
think  it  right  to  limit  his  brilliant  exaggeration  to  works  written  only  for 
public  amusement ; and  when  he  takes  up  a subject  of  high  national  import- 
ance, such  as  that  which  he  handled  in  Hard  Times,  that  he  would  use 
"everer  and  more  accurate  analysis.  The  usefulness  of  that  work  (to -my 
mind,  in  several  respects,  the  greatest  he  has  written)  is  with  many  persons 
seriously  diminished  because  Mr.  Bounderby  is  a dramatic  monster,  instead 
of  a characteristic  example  of  a worldly  master ; and  Stephen  Blackpool  a 
dramatic  perfection,  instead  of  a characteristic  example  of  an  honest  work- 
man. But  let  us  not  lose  the  use  of  Dickens’s  wit  and  insight,  because  he 
chooses  to  speak  in  a circle  of  stage  fire.  He  is  entirely  right  in  his  main 
drift  and  purpose  in  every  book  he  has  written ; and  all  of  them,  but  espe- 
cially Hard  Times,  should  be  studied  with  close  and  earnest  care  by  persons 
interested  in  social  questions.  They  will  find  much  that  is  partial,  and,  be- 
cause partial,  apparently  unjust ; but  if  they  examine  all  the  evidence  on  the 
other  side,  which  Dickens  seems  to  overlook,  it  will  appear,  after  aU  their 
trouble,  tliat  his  view  was  the  finally  right  one,  grossly  and  sharply  told. 


THE  KOOTS  OF  HONOUR. 


27 


the  full  strength  of  his  subordinates.  If  a man  of  sense  and 
firmness,  he  may,  as  in  the  former  instance,  produce  a better 
result  than  would  be  obtained  by  the  irregular  kindness  of  a 
weak  oflScer ; but  let  the  sense  and  firmness  be  the  same  in 
both  cases,  and  assuredly  the  officer  who  has  the  most  direct 
personal  relations  with  his  men,  the  most  care  for  their 
interests,  and  the  most  value  for  their  lives,  will  develop 
their  effective  strength,  through  their  affection  for  his  own 
j^erson,  and  trust  in  his  character,  to  a degree  wholly  unat- 
tainable by  other  means.  The  law  applies  still  more  strin- 
gently as  the  numbers  concerned  are  larger;  a charge  may 
often  be  successful,  though  the  men  dislike  their  officers ; a 
battle  has  rarely  been  won,  unless  they  loved  their  general. 

Passing  from  these  simple  examples  to  the  more  complicated 
relations  existing  between  a manufacturer  and  his  workmen, 
we  are  met  first  by  certain  curious  difficulties,  resulting, 
apparently,  from  a harder  and  colder  state  of  moral  elements. 
It  is  easy  to  imagine  an  enthusiastic  affection  existing  among 
soldiers  for  the  colonel.  !N’ot  so  easy  to  imagine  an  enthusiastic 
affection  among  cotton-spinners  for  the  proprietor  of  the  mill. 
A body  of  men  associated  for  purposes  of  robbery  (as  a High- 
land clan  in  ancient  times)  shall  be  animated  by  perfect  affec- 
tion, and  every  member  of  it  be  ready  to  lay  down  his  life  for 
the  life  of  his  chief.  But  a band  of  men  associated  for  purposes 
of  legal  production  and  accumulation  is  usually  animated,  it 


28 


THE  ROOTS  OF  HONOUR. 


appears,  by  no  such  emotions,  and  none  of  them  are  in  any- 
wise willing  to  give  his  life  for  the  life  of  his  chief,  hfot  only 
are  we  met  by  this  apparent  anomaly,  in  moral  matters,  but 
by  others  connected  with  it,  in  administration  of  system.  For 
a servant  or  a soldier  is  engaged  at  a definite  rate  of  wages, 
for  a definite  period ; but  a workman  at  a rate  of  wages  vari- 
able according  to  the  demand  for  labour,  and  with  the  risk 
of  being  at  any  time  thrown  out  of  his  situation  by  chances 
of  trade.  N^ow,  as,  under  these  contingencies,  no  action  of 
the  affections  can  take  place,  but  only  an  explosive  action  of 
^?^5aflfections,  two  points  offer  themselves  for  consideration  in 
the  matter. 

The  first — How  far  the  rate  of  wages  may  be  so  regu- 
lated as  not  to  vary  with  the  demand  for  labour. 

The  second — How  far  it  is  possible  that  bodies  of  work- 
men may  be  engaged  and  maintained  at  such  fixed  rate 
of  wages  (whatever  the  state  of  trade  may  be),  without 
enlarging  or  diminishing  their  number,  so  as  to  give  them 
permanent  interest  in  the  establishment  with  which  they 
are  connected,  like  that  of  the  domestic  servants  in  an  old 
family,  or  an  esprit  de  corps^  like  that  of  the  soldiers  in  a 
crack  regiment. 

The  first  question  is,  I say,  how  far  it  may  be  possible 
to  fix  the  rate  of  wages  ’'’"^snectively  of  the  demand  for 
labour. 


THE  EOOTS  OF  HONOUR. 


29 


Perhaps  one  of  the  most  curious  facts  in  the  History  of 
human  error  is  the  denial  by  the  common  political  econo- 
mist of  the  possibility  of  thus  regulating  wages;  while  for 
all  the  important,  and  much  of  the  unimportant,  labour  on 
the  earth,  wages  are  already  so  regulated. 

We  do  not  sell  our  prime-ministership  by  Dutch  auction ; 
nor,  on  the  decease  of  a bishop,  whatever  may  be  the 
general  advantages  of  simony,  do  we  (yet)  offer  his  diocese 
to  the  clergyman  who  will  take  the  episcopacy  at  the  low- 
est contract.  We  (with  exquisite  sagacity  of  political  eco- 
nomy !)  do  indeed  sell  commissions,  but  not  openly,  general- 
ships: sick,  we  do  not  inquire  for  a physician  who  takes 
less  than  a guinea;  litigious,  we  never  think  of  reducing 
six-and-eightpence  to  fom-and-sixpence ; caught  in  a shower, 
we  do  not  canvass  the  cabmen,  to  find  one  who  values  his 
driving  at  less  than  sixpence  a mile. 

It  is  true  that  in  all  these  cases  there  is,  and  in  every 
conceivable  case  there  must  be,  ultimate  reference  to  the 
presumed  difficulty  of  the  work,  or  number  of  candidates 
for  the  office.  If  it  were  thought  that  the  labour  necessary 
to  make  a good  physician  would  be  gone  through  by  a 
sufficient  number  of  students  with  the  prospect  of  only  half- 
guinea fees,  public  consent  would  soon  withdraw  the  unne- 
cessary half-guinea.  In  this  ultimate  sense,  the  price  of 
labour  is  indeed  always  regulated  by  the  demand  for  it; 


30 


THE  ROOTS  OF  HONOUR. 


but  SO  far  as  the  practical  and  immediate  administration 
of  the  matter  is  regarded,  the  best  labour  always  has  been, 
and  is,  as  all  labour  ought  to  be,  paid  by  an  invariable 
standard. 

“ What  !”  the  reader,  perhaps,  answers  amazedly : “ pay 
good  and  bad  workmen  alike  ?” 

Certainly.  The  difference  between  one  prelate’s  sermons 
and  his  successor’s, — or  between  one  physician’s  opinion 
and  another’s — is  far  greater,  as  respects  the  qualities  of 
mind  involved,  and  far  more  important  in  result  to  you 
personally,  than  the  difference  between  good  and  bad  lay- 
ing of  bricks  (though  that  is  greater  than  most  people 
suppose).  Yet  you  pay  with  equal  fee,  contentedly,  the  good 
and  bad  workmen  upon  your  soul,  and  the  good  and  bad 
workmen  upon  your  body;  much  more  may  you  pay,  con- 
tentedly, with  equal  fees,  the  good  and  bad  workmen  upon 
your  house. 

“ ISTay,  but  I choose  my  physician  and  (?)  my  clergy- 
man, thus  indicating  my  sense  of  the  quality  of  their  work.” 
By  all  means,  also,  choose  your  bricklayer;  that  is  the 
proper  reward  of  the  good  workman,  to  be  “chosen.” 
The  natural  and  right  system  respecting  all  labour  is,  tliat 
it  should  be  paid  at  a fixed  rate,  but  the  good  workman 
employed,  and  the  bad  workman  unemployed.  The  false, 
unnatural,  and  destructive  system  is  when  the  bad  work- 


THE  HOOTS  OF  HONOUR. 


31 


man  is  allowod  to  offer  his  work  at  half-price,  and  either 
take  the  place  of  the  good,  or  force  him  by  his  competition 
to  work  for  an  inadequate  sum. 

This  equality  of  wages,  then,  being  the  first  object  towards 
which  we  have  to  discover  the  directest  available  road ; the 
second  is,  as  above  stated,  that  of  maintaining  constant 
numbers  of  wor’’’'-’V'v  in  emnlovment,  whatever  may  be  the 
accidental  demand  for  the  article  they  produce. 

I believe  the  sudden  and  extensive  inequalities  of  demand 
which  necessarily  arise  in  the  mercantile  operations  of  an 
active  nation,  constitute  the  only  essential  difficulty  which 
has  to  be  overcome  in  a just  organization  of  labour.  The 
subject  opens  into  too  many  branches  to  admit  of  being 
investigated  in  a paper  of  this  kind ; but  the  following  gene- 
ral facts  bearing  on  it  may  be  noted. 

The  wages  which  enable  any  workman  to  live  are  neces- 
sarily higher,  if  his  work  is  liable  to  intermission,  than  if  it 
is  assured  and  continuous ; and  however  severe  the  struggle 
for  work  may  become,  the  general  law  will  always  hold,  tliat 
men  must  get  more  daily  pay  if,  on  the  average,  they  can 
only  calculate  on  work  three  days  a week,  than  they  would 
require  if  they  were  sure  of  work  six  days  a week.  Sup- 
posing that  a man  cannot  live  on  less  than  a shilling  a day, 
his  seven  shillings  he  must  get,  either  for  three  days’  violent 
work,  or  six  days’  deliberate  work.  The  tendency  of  all 


32 


THE  ROOTS  OF  HOI^'OUR. 


modern  mercantile  operations  is  to  throw  both  wages  and 
trade  into  the  form  of  a lottery,  and  to  make  the  workman’s 
pay  depend  on  intermittent  exertion,  and  the  principal’s  pro- 
fit on  dexterously  used  chance. 

In  what  partial  degree,  I repeat^  this  may  be  necessary, 
in  consequence  of  the  activities  of  modern  trade,  I do  not 
here  investigate ; contenting  myself  with  the  fact,  that  in 
its  fatallest  aspects  it  is  assuredly  unnecessary,  and  results 
merely  from  love  of  gambling  on  the  part  of  the  masters, 
and  from  ignorance  and  sensuality  in  the  men.  The  masters 
cannot  bear  to  let  any  opportunity  of  gain  escape  them,  and 
frantically  rush  at  every  gap  and  breach  in  the  walls  of 
Fortune,  raging  to  be  rich,  and  affronting,  with  impatient 
covetousness,  every  risk  of  ruin ; while  the  men  prefer  three 
days  of  violent  labour,  and  three  days  of  drunkenness,  to  six 
days  of  moderate  work  and  wise  rest.  There  is  no  way  in 
which  a principal,  who  really  desires  to  help  his  workmen, 
may  do  it  more  effectually  than  by  checking  these  disorderly 
habits  both  in  himself  and  them ; keeping  his  own  business 
operations  on  a scale  which  will  enable  him  to  pursue  them 
securely,  not  yielding  to  temptations  of  precarious  gain ; and, 
at  the  same  time,  leading  his  workmen  into  regular  habit 
of  labour  and  life,  either  by  inducing  them  rather  to  take 
low  wages  in  the  form  of  a fixed  salary,  than  high  wages, 
subject  to  the  chance  of  their  being  thrown  out  of  work;  or, 


THE  BOOTS  OF  HONOUR. 


33 


if  this  be  impossible,  by  discouraging  the  system  of  violent 
exertion  for  nominally  high  day  wages,  and  leading  the  men 
to  take  lower  pay  for  more  regular  labour. 

In  effecting  any  radical  changes  of  this  kind,  doubtless 
there  would  be  great  inconvenience  and  loss  incurred  by  all 
the  originators  of  movement.  That  which  can  be  done  with 
perfect  convenience  and  without  loss,  is  not  always  the 
thing  that  most  needs  to  be  done,  or  which  we  are  most 
imperatively  required  to  do. 

I have  already  alluded  to  the  difference  hitherto  existing 
between  regiments  of  men  associated  for  purposes  of  vio- 
lence, and  for  purposes  of  manufacture;  in  that  the  former 
appear  capable  of  self-sacrifice — the  latter,  not ; which  singu- 
lar fact  is  the  real  reason  of  the  general  lowness  of  estimate 
in  which  the  profession  of  commerce  is  held,  as  compared 
with  that  of  arms.  Philosophically,  it  does  not,  at  first  sight, 
appear  reasonable  (many  writers  have  endeavoured  to  prove 
it  unreasonable)  that  a peaceable  and  rational  person,  whose 
trade  is  buying  and  selling,  should  be  held  in  less  honour 
than  an  unpeaceable  and  often  irrational  person,  whose  trade 
is  slaying.  ISTevertheless,  the  consent  of  mankind  has  always, 
in  spite  of  the  philosophers,  given  precedence  to  the  soldier. 

And  this  is  right. 

For  the  soldier’s  trade,  verily  and  essentially,  is  not  slay- 
ing, but  being  slain.  This,  without  well  knowing  its  owe 
2* 


84 


THE  ROOTS  OF  HONOUR. 


meaning,  the  world  honours  it  for.  A bravo’s  trade  is  slay* 
ing;  but  the  world  has  never  respected  bravos  more  than 
merchants : the  reason  it  honours  the  soldier  is,  because  he 
holds  his  life  at  the  service  of  the  State.  Reckless  he  may  be 
— fond  of  pleasure  or  of  adventure — all  kinds  of  bye-motives 
and  mean  ^impulses  may  have  determined  the  choice  of  his 
profession,  and  may  affect  (to  all  appearance  exclusively)  his 
daily  conduct  in  it ; but  our  estimate  of  him  is  based  on  this 
ultimate  fact — of  which  we  are  well  assured — that,  put  him 
in  a fortress  breach,  with  all  the  pleasures  of  the  world 
behind  him,  and  only  death  and  his  duty  in  front  of  him,  he 
will  keep  his  face  to  the  front;  and  he  knows  that  this  choice 
may  be  put  to  him  at  any  moment,  and  has  beforehand  taken 
his  part — virtually  takes  such  part  continually — does,  in 
reality,  die  daily. 

Rot  less  is  the  respect  we  pay  to  the  lawyer  and  physician, 
founded  ultimately  on  their  self-sacrifice.  Whatever  the  learn- 
ing or  acuteness  of  a great  lawyer,  our  chief  respect  for  him 
depends  on  our  belief  that,  set  in  a judge’s  seat,  he  will  strive 
to  judge  justly,  come  of  it  what  may.  Could  we  suppose  that 
he  would  take  bribes,  and  use  his  acuteness  and  l(‘gal  know- 
ledge to  give  plausibility  to  iniquitous  decisions,  no  degree 
of  intellect  would  win  for  him  our  respect.  Rothing  will  win 
it,  short  of  our  tacit  conviction,  that  in  all  imj^ortant  acts  of 
his  life  justice  is  first  with  him;  his  own  interest,  second. 


THE  ROOTS  OF  HONOUR. 


35 


In  the  case  of  a physician,  the  ground  of  the  honour  we 
render  him  is  clearer  still.  Whatever  his  science,  we  should 
shrink  from  him  in  horror  if  we  found  him  regard  his  patients 
merely  as  subjects  to  experiment  upon;  much  more,  if  we 
found  that,  receiving  bribes  from  persons  interested  in  their 
deaths,  he  was  using  his  best  skill  to  give  poison  in*  the  mask 
of  medicine. 

Finally,  the  principle  holds  with  utmost  clearness  as  it 
respects  clergymen.  N^o  goodness  of  disposition  will  excuse 
want  of  science  in  a physician  or  of  shrewdness  in  an  advo- 
cate ; but  a clergyman,  even  though  his  power  of  intellect  be 
small,  is  respected  on  the  presumed  ground  of  his  unselfish- 
ness and  serviceableness. 

'Now  there  can  be  no  question  but  that  the  tact,  foresight, 
decision,  and  other  mental  powers,  required  for  the  success- 
ful management  of  a large  mercantile  concern,  if  not  such  as 
could  be  compared  with  those  of  a great  lawyer,  general,  or 
divine,  would  at  least  match  the  general  conditions  of  mind 
required  in  the  subordinate  officers  of  a ship,  or  of  a regiment, 
or  in  the  curate  of  a country  parish.  If,  therefore,  all  the 
efficient  members  of  the  so-called  liberal  professions  are  still, 
somehow,  in  public  estimate  of  honour,  preferred  before  the 
head  of  a commei'cial  firm,  the  reason  must  lie  deeper  than  in 
the  measurement  of  their  several  powers  of  mind. 

And  the  essential  reason  for  such  preference  will  be  found 


36 


THE  HOOTS  OE  HONOUR. 


to  lie  in  the  fact  that  the  merchant  is  presumed  to  act  always 
selfishly.  His  work  may  be  very  necessary  to  the  commu- 
nity ; but  the  motive  of  it  is  understood  to  be  wholly  per- 
sonal. The  merchant’s  first  object  in  all  his  dealings  must  be 
(the  public  believe)  to  get  as  much  for  himself,  and  leave  as 
little  to  his  neighbour  (or  customer)  as  possible.  Enforcing 
this  upon  him,  by  political  statute,  as  the  necessary  principle 
of  his  action ; recommending  it  to  him  on  all  occasions,  and 
themselves  reciprocally  adopting  it;  proclaiming  vociferously, 
for  law  of  the  universe,  that  a buyer’s  function  is  to  cheapen, 
and  a seller’s  to  cheat, — the  public,  nevertheless,  involuntarily 
condemn  the  man  of  commerce  for  his  compliance  with  their 
own  statement,  and  stamp  him  for  ever  as  belonging  to  an 
inferior  grade  of  human  iDersonality. 

This  they  will  find,  eventually,  they  must  give  up  doing. 
They  must  not  cease  to  condemn  selfishness  ; but  they  will 
have  to  discover  a kind  of  commerce  which  is  not  exclusively 
selfish.  Or,  rather,  they  will  have  to  discover  that  there 
never  was,  or  can  be,  any  other  kind  of  commerce  ; that  this 
which  they  have  called  commerce  was  not  commerce  at  all, 
but  cozening ; and  that  a true  merchant  dififers  as  much  from 
a merchant  according  to  laws  of  modern  political  economy, 
as  the  hero  of  the  Excursion  from  iVutolycus.  They  will 
find  that  commerce  is  an  occupation  which  gentlemen  will 
every  day  see  more  need  to  engage  in,  ratlier  than  in  the 


THE  EOOTS  OF  HONOUR. 


37 


businesses  of  talking  to  men,  or  slaying  them;  that,  in  tiue 
commerce,  as  in  true  preaching,  or  true  fighting,  it  is  neces- 
sary to  admit  the  idea  of  occasional  voluntary  loss ; — that 
sixpences  have  to  be  lost,  as  well  as  lives,  under  a sense  of 
duty;  that  the  market  may  have  its  martyrdoms  as  well  as 
the  pulpit ; and  trade  its  heroisms,  as  well  as  war. 

May  have — in  the  final  issue,  must  have — and  only  has  not 
had  yet,  because  men  of  heroic  temper  have  always  been  mis- 
guided in  their  youth  into  other  fields,  not  recognizing  what 
is  in  our  days,  perhaps,  the  most  important  of  all  fields ; so 
that,  while  many  a zealous  j^erson  loses  his  life  in  trying  to 
teach  the  form  of  a gospel,  very  few  will  lose  a hundred 
pounds  in  showing  the  practice  of  one. 

The  fact  is,  that  people  never  have  had  clearly  explained 
to  them  the  true  functions  of  a merchant  with  respect  to 
other  people.  I should  like  the  reader  to  be  very  clear  about 
this. 

Five  great  intellectual  professions,  relating  to  daily  neces- 
sities of  life,  have  hitherto  existed — three  exist  necessarily, 
in  every  civilized  nation  : 

The  Soldier’s  profession  is  to  defend  it. 

The  Pastor’s,  to  teach  it. 

The  Physician’s,  to  keep  it  in  health. 

The  Lawyer’s,  to  enforce  justice  in  it. 

The  Merchant’s,  to  provide  for  it. 


38 


THE  HOOTS  OF  HONOUR. 


And  the  duty  of  all  these  men  is,  on  due  occasion,  to  die 
for  it. 

“ On  due  occasion,”  namely  : — 

The  Soldier,  rather  than  leave  his  post  in  battle. 

The  Physician,  rather  than  leave  his  post  in  plague. 

The  Pastor,  rather  than  teach  Falsehood. 

The  Lawyer,  rather  than  countenance  Injustice. 

The  Merchant — "What  is  his  “ due  occasion  ” of  death  ? 

It  is  the  main  question  for  the  merchant,  as  for  all  of  us. 
For,  truly,  the  man  who  does  not  know  when  to  die,  does  not 
know  how  to  live. 

Observe,  the  merchant’s  function  (or  manufacturer’s,  for  in 
the  broad  sense  in  which  it  is  here  used  the  word  must  be 
understood  to  include  both)  is  to  jrrovide  for  the  nation.  It 
is  no  more  his  function  to  get  profit  for  himself  out  of  that 
provision  than  it  is  a clergyman’s  function  to  get  his  sti- 
pend. The  stipend  is  a due  and  necessary  adjunct,  but  not 
the  object,  of  his  life,  if  he  be  a true  clergyman,  any  more 
than  his  fee  (or  honorarium)  is  the  object  of  life  to  a true 
physician.  ISTeither  is  his  fee  the  object  of  life  to  a true  mer- 
chant. All  three,  if  true  men,  have  a work  to  be  done 
irrespective  of  fee — to  be  done  even  at  any  cost,  or  for  quite 
the  contrary  of  fee ; the  pastor’s  function  being  to  teach,  the 
physician’s  to  heal,  and  the  merchant’s,  as  I have  said,  to 
provide.  That  is  to  say,  he  has  to  understand  to  their  very 


THE  HOOTS  OF  HONOUR. 


39 


root  the  qualities  of  the  thing  he  deals  in,  and  the  means  of 
obtaining  or  producing  it;  and  he  has  to  apply  all  his  saga- 
city and  energy  to  the  producing  or  obtaining  it  in  perfect 
state,  and  distributing  it  at  the  cheapest  possible  price  where 
it  is  most  needed. 

* And  because  the  production  or  obtaining  of  any  commo- 
dity involves  necessarily  the  agency  of  many  lives  and  hands, 
the  merchant  becomes  in  the  course  of  his  business  the  mas- 
ter and  governor  of  large  masses  of  men  in  a more  direct, 
though  less  confessed  way,  than  a military  officer  or  pastor 
so  that  on  him  falls,  in  great  part,  the  responsibility  for  th^ 
kind  of  life  they  lead : and  it  becomes  his  duty,  not  only  to 
be  always  considering  how  to  produce  what  he  sells  in  the 
purest  and  cheapest  forms,  but  how  to  make  the  various 
employments  involved  in  the  production,  or  transference  of 
it,  most  beneficial  to  the  men  employed. 

And  as  into  these  two  functions,  requiring  for  their  right 
exercise  the  highest  intelligence,  as  well  as  patience,  kind- 
ness, and  tact,  the  merchant  is  bound  to  put  all  his  energy,  so 
for  their  just  discharge  he  is  bound,  as  soldier  or  physician  is 
bound,  to  give  up,  if  need  be,  his  life,  in  such  way  as  may  be 
demanded  of  him.  Two  main  points  he  has  in  bis  providing 
function  to  maintain  : first,  his  engagements  (faithfulness  to 
engagements  being  the  real  root  of  all  j)ossibilities  in  com- 
merce) ; and,  secondly,  the  perfectness  and  purity  of  the 


40 


THE  ROOTS  OF  HO?«'OUR. 


thing  provided  ; so  that,  rather  than  fail  in  any  engagement, 
or  consent  to  any  deterioration,  adulteration,  or  unjust  and 
exorbitant  price  of  that  which  he  provides,  he  is  bound  to 
meet  fearlessly  any  form  of  distress,  poverty,  or  labour,  which 
may,  through  maintenance  of  these  points,  come  upon  him. 

Again : in  his  office  as  governor  of  the  men  employed  by 
him,  the  merchant  or  manufacturer  is  invested  with  a dis- 
tinctly paternnl  authority  and  responsibility.  In  most  cases, 
a youth  entering  a commercial  establishment  is  withdrawn 
altogether  from  home  influence;  his  master  must  become 
his  father,  else  he  has,  for  practical  and  constant  help,  no 
father  at  hand : in  all  cases  the  master’s  authority,  together 
with  the  general  tone  and  atmosphere  of  his  business,  and 
the  character  of  the  men  with  whom  the  youth  is  compelled 
in  the  course  of  it  to  associate,  have  more  immediate  and 
pressing  weight  than  the  home  influence,  and  will  usually 
neutralize  it  either  for  good  or  evil ; so  that  the  only  means 
which  the  master  has  of  doing  justice  to  the  men  employed 
by  him  is  to  ask  himself  sternly  whether  he  is  dealing  with 
such  subordinate  as  he  would  with  his  own  son,  if  com- 
pelled by  circumstances  to  take  such  a position. 

Supposing  the  captain  of  a frigate  saw  it  right,  or  were 
by  any  chance  obliged,  to  place  his  own  son  in  the  position  of 
a common  sailor;  as  he  would  then  treat  his  son,  he  is 
bound  always  to  treat  every  one  of  the  men  under  him. 


THE  EOOTS  OF  HONOUR. 


41 


So,  also,  supposing  the  master  of  a manufactory  saw  it 
right,  or  were  by  any  chance  obliged,  to  place  his  own  son 
in  the  position  of  an  ordinary  workman ; as  he  would  then 
treat  his  son,  he  is  bound  always  to  treat  every  one  of  his 
men.  This  is  the  only  effective,  true,  or  practical  Rule 
which  can  be  given  on  this  jDoint  of  political  economy. 

And  as  the  captain  of  a ship  is  bound  to  be  the  last 
man  to  leave  his  ship  in  case  of  wreck,  and  to  share  his 
last  crust  with  the  sailors  in  case  of  famine,  so  the  manu- 
facturer, in  any  commercial  crisis  or  distress,  is  bound  to 
take  the  suffering  of  it  with  his  men,  and  even  to  take 
more  of  it  for  himself  than  he  allows  his  men  to  feel ; as 
a , father  would  in  a famine,  shipwreck,  or  battle,  sacrifice 
himself  for  his  son. 

All  which  sounds  very  strange ; the  only  real  strangeness- 
in  the  matter  being,  nevertheless,  that  it  should  so  sound. 
For  all  this  is  true,  and  that  not  partially  nor  theoretically, 
out  everlastingly  and  practically:  all  other  doctrine  than 
this  respecting  matters  political  being  filse  in  premises, 
absurd  in  deduction,  and  impossible  in  practice,  consistently 
with  any  progressive  state  of  national  life;  all  the  life 
which  we  now  possess  as  a nation  showing  itself  in  the 
resolute  denial  and  scorn,  by  a few  strong  minds  and  faith- 
ful hearts,  of  the  economic  principles  taught  to  our  mul- 
titudes, which  principles,  so  far  as  accepted,  lead  straight 


42 


THE  ROOTS  OF  HONOUR. 


to  national  destruction.  Respecting  the  modes  and  forms 
of  destruction  to  which  they  lead,  and,  on  the  other  hand, 
respecting  the  farther  practical  working  of  true  polity,  I 
hope  to  reason  further  in  a following  paper. 


ESSAY  II. 


THE  VEIN’S  OF  WEALTH 

The  answer  whicli  would  be  made  by  any  ordinary  jDolitical 
economist  to  tbe  statements  contained  in  the  preceding 
paper,  is  in  few  words  as  follows  : — 

“It  is  indeed  true  that  certain  advantages  of  a general 
nature  may  be  obtained  by  tbe  development  of  social  affec- 
tions. But  political  economists  never  professed,  nor  profess, 
to  take  advantages  of  a general  nature  into  consideration. 
Our  science  is  simply  the  science  of  getting  rich.  So  far 
from  being  a fallacious  or  visionary  one,  it  is  found  by 
experience  to  be  practically  effective.  Persons  who  follow 
its  precepts  do  actually  become  rich,  and  persons  who  dis- 
obey them  become  poor.  Every  capitalist  of  Europe  has 
acquired  his  fortune  by  following  the  known  laws  of  our  sci- 
ence, and  increases  his  capital  daily  by  an  adherence  to  them. 
It  is  vain  to  bring  forw^ard  tricks  of  logic,  against  the  force 
of  accomplished  facts.  Every  man  of  business  knows  by 
experience  how  money  is  made,  and  how  it  is  lost.” 

Pardon  me.  Men  of  business  do  indeed  know  how  they 
themselves  made  their  money,  or  how,  on  occasion,  they  lost 


44 


THE  VEINS  OF  WEALTH. 


it.  Playing  a long-practised  game,  they  are  familiar  with 
the  chances  of  its  cards,  and  can  rightly  explain  their  losses 
and  gains.  But  they  neither  know  who  keeps  the  hank  of 
the  gamhling-house,  nor  what  other  games  may  he  played 
witli  the  same  cards,  nor  what  other  losses  and  gains,  far 
away  among  the  dark  streets,  are  essentially,  though  invi- 
sibly, dependent  on  theirs  in  the  lighted  rooms.  They  have 
learned  a few,  and  only  a few,  of  the  laws  of  mercantile 
economy ; hut  not  one  of  those  of  political  economy. 

Primarily,  which  is  very  notable  and  curious,  I observe 
that  men  of  business  rarely  know  the  meaning  of  the  word 
“ rich.”  At  least  if  they  know,  they  do  not  in  their  reason- 
ings allow  for  the  fact,  that  it  is  a relative  word,  implying 
its  opposite  “poor”  as  positively  as  the  word  “north” 
implies  its  opposite  “ south.”  Men  nearly  always  speak  and 
write  as  if  riches  were  absolute,  and  it  were  possible,  by 
following  certain  scientific  precepts,  for  everybody  to  be  rich. 
Whereas  riches  are  a power  like  that  of  electricity,  acting 
only  through  inequalities  or  negations  of  itself.  The  force  of 
the  guinea  you  have  in  your  pocket  depends  wholly  on  the 
default  of  a guinea  in  your  neighbour’s  pocket.  If  he  did 
not  want  it,  it  would  be  of  no  use  to  you;  the  degree  of 
power  it  possesses  depends  accurately  upon  the  need  or 
desire  he  has  for  it, — and  the  art  of  making  yourself  rich, 
in  the  ordinary  mercantile  economist’s  sense,  is  therefore 


THE  VEII^S  OF  WEALTH. 


45 


equally  and  necessarily  the  art  of  keeping  your  neiglibour 
j)oor. 

I would  not  contend  in  this  matter  (and  rarely  in  any  mat- 
ter), for  the  acceptance  of  terms.  But  I wish  the  reader 
clearly  and  deeply  to  understand  the  difference  between  the 
two  economies,  to  which  the  terms  “Political”  and  “Mer- 
cantile ” might  not  unadvisably  be  attached. 

Political  economy  (the  economy  of  a State,  or  of  citizens) 
consists  simply  in  the  production,  preservation,  and  distribu- 
tion, at  fittest  time  and  place,  of  useful  or  pleasurable  things. 
The  farmer  who  cuts  his  hay  at  the  right  time ; the  ship- 
wright who  drives  his  bolts  well  home  in  sound  wood ; the 
builder  who  lays  good  bricks  in  well-tempered  mortar ; the 
housewife  who  takes  care  of- her  furniture  in  the  parlour,  and 
guards  against  all  waste  in  her  kitchen ; and  the  singer  who 
rightly  disciplines,  and  never  overstrains  her  voice  : are  all 
political  economists  in  the  true  and  final  sense ; adding  con- 
tinually to  the  riches  and  well-being  of  the  nation  to  which 
they  belong. 

But  mercantile  economy,  the  economy  of  “ merces  ” or  of 
“pay,”  signifies  the  accumulation,  in  the  hands  of  individuals, 
of  legal  or  moral  claim  upon,  or  power  over,  the  labour  of 
others  ; every  such  claim  implying  precisely  as  much  poverty 
or  4cbt  on  one  side,  as  it  implies  riches  or  right  on  the  other. 

It  does  not,  therefore,  necessarily  involve  an  addition  to 


46 


THE  VEINS  OF  WEALTH. 


the  actual  property,  or  well-being,  of  the  State  in  which  it 
exists.  But  since  this  commercial  wealth,  or  power  over 
labour,  is  nearly  always  convertible  at  once  into  real  pro- 
perty, while  real  property  is  not  always  convertible  at  once 
into  power  over  labour,  the  idea  of  riches  among  active  men 
in  civilized  nations,  generally  refers  to  commercial  wealth; 
and  in  estimating  their  possessions,  they  rather  calculate  the 
value  of  their  horses  and  fields  by  the  number  of  guineas 
they  could  get  for  them,  than  the  value  of  their  guineas  by 
the  number  of  horses  and  fields  they  could  buy  with  them. 

There  is,  however,  another  reason  for  this  habit  of  mind ; 
namely,  that  an  accumulation  of  real  property  is  of  little 
use  to  its  owner,  unless,  together  with  it,  he  has  commercial 
power  over  labour.  Thus,  suppose  any  person  to  be  put  in 
possession  of  a large  estate  of  fruitful  landj  with  rich  beds 
of  gold  in  its  gravel,  countless  herds  of  cattle  in  its  pastures ; 
houses,  and  gardens,  and  storehouses  full  of  useful  stores; 
but  suppose,  after  all,  that  he  could  get  no  servants?  In 
order  that  he  may  be  able  to  have  servants,  some  one  in 
his  neighbourhood  must  be  poor,  and  in  want  of  his  gold — or 
his  corn.  Assume  that  no  one  is  in  want  of  either,  and  that 
no  servants  are  to  be  had.  He  must,  therefore,  bake  his  own 
bread,  make  his  own  clothes,  plough  his  own  ground,  and 
shepherd  his  own  flocks.  His  gold  will  be  as  useful  to  him 
as  any  other  yellow  pebbles  on  his  estate.  His  stores  must 


THE  VEINS  OF  WEALTH. 


4Y 


rot,  for  he  cannot  consume  them.  He  can  eat  no  more  than 
another  man  could  eat,  and  wear  no  more  than  another  man 
could  wear.  He  must  lead  a life  of  severe  and  common 
labour  to  procure  even  ordinary  comforts ; he  will  be  ulti- 
mately unable  to  keep  either  houses  in  repair,  or  fields  in 
cultivation ; and  forced  to  content  himself  with  a poor  man’s 
portion  of  cottage  and  garden,  in  the  midst  of  a desert  of 
waste  land,  trampled  by  wild  cattle,  and  encumbered  by  ruins 
of  palaces,  which  he  will  hardly  mock  at  himself  by  calling 
“ his  own.” 

The  most  covetous  of  mankind  would,  with  small  exulta- 
tion, I presume,  accept  riches  of  this  kind  on  these  terms. 
Yfhat  is  really  desired,  under  the  name  of  riches,  is,  essen- 
tially, power  over  men  ; in  its  simplest  sense,  the  power 
of  obtaining  for  our  own  advantage  the  labour  of  servant, 
tradesman,  and  artist ; in  wider  sense,  authority  of  directing 
large  masses  of  the  nation  to  various  ends  (good,  trivial,  or 
hurtful,  according  to  the  mind  of  the  rich  person).  And  this 
power  of  wealth  of  course  is  greater  or  less  in  direct  proper 
tion  to  the  poverty  of  the  men  over  whom  it  is  exercised, 
and  in  inverse  proportion  to  the  number  of  persons  who  are 
as  rich  as  ourselves,  and  who  are  ready  to  give  the  same 
price  for  an  article  of  which  the  supply  is  limited.  If  the 
musician  is  poor,  he  will  sing  for  small  pay,  as  long  as  there 
is  only  one  person  who  can  pay  him;  but  if  there  be  two 


48 


THE  VEINS  OF  WEALTH. 


or  three,  he  will  sing  for  the  one  who  offers  him  most.  And 
thus  the  power  of  the  riches  of  the  patron  (always  imperfect 
and  doubtful,  as  we  shall  see  presently,  even  when  most 
authoritative)  depends  first  on  the  poverty  of  the  artist,  and 
then  on  the  limitation  of  the  number  of  equally  wealthy 
persons,  who  also  want  seats  at  the  concert.  So  that,  as 
above  stated,  the  art  of  becoming  “rich,”  in  the  common 
sense,  is  not  absolutely  nor  finally  the  art  of  accumulating 
much  money  for  ourselves,  but  also  of  contriving  that  our 
neighbours  shall  have  less.  In  accurate  terms,  it  is  “the 
art  of  establishing  the  maximum  inequality  in  our  own 
favour.” 

Now  the  establishment  of  such  inequality  cannot  be  shown 
in  the  abstract  to  be  either  advantageous  or  disadvantageous 
to  the  body  of  the  nation.  The  rash  and  absurd  assumption 
that  such  inequalities  are  necessarily  advantageous,  lies  at  the 
root  of  most  of  the  popular  fallacies  on  the  subject  of  political 
economy.  For  the  eternal  and  inevitable  law  in  this  matter  is, 
that  the  beneficialness  of  the  inequality  depends,  first,  on  the 
methods  by  which  it  was  accomplished,  and,  secondly,  on  the 
purposes  to  which  it  is  applied.  Inequalities  of  wealth,  unjustly 
established,  have  assuredly  injured  the  nation  in  which  they 
exist  during  their  establishment;  and,  unjustly  directed,  injure 
it  yet  more  during  their  existence.  But  inequalities  of  wealth 
justly  established,  benefit  the  nation  in  the  course  of  their 


THE  VEINS  OF  WEALTH. 


49 


cstablishmont ; arid  nobly  used,  aid  it  yet  more  l)y  their 
existence.  That  is  to  say,  among  every  active  and  well- 
governed  people,  the  various  strength  of  individuals,  tested 
by  full  exertion  and  specially  applied  to  various  need,  issues 
in  unequal,  but  harmonious  results,  receiving  reward  or 
authority  according  to  its  class  and  service  j"**  while  in  the 

* I liave  been  naturally  asked  several  times,  with  respect  to  the  sentence 
in  the  first  of  these  papers,  “the  bad  workmen  unemployed,”  “But  what 
are  you  to  do  with  your  bad  unemployed  workmen?”  Well,  it  seems  to  mo 
the  question  might  have  occurred  to  you  before.  Your  housemaid’s  place 
is  vacant — you  give  twenty  pounds  a year — two  girls  come  for  it,  one  neatly 
dressed,  the  other  dirtily ; one  with  good  recommendations,  the  other  with 
none.  You  do  not,  under  these  circumstances,  usually  ask  the  dirty  one 
if  she  win  come  for  fifteen  pounds,  *or  twelve ; and,  on  her  consenting,  take 
her  instead  of  the  weU-recommended  one.  Stih  less  do  you  try  to  beat 
both  down  by  making  them  bid  against  each  other,  tiU  you  can  hire  both, 
one  at  twelve  pounds  a year,  and  the  other  at  eight.  You  simply  take  the 
one  fittest  for  the  place,  and  send  away  the  other,  not  perhaps  concerning 
yourself  quite  as  much  as  you  should  with  the  question  which  you  now 
impatiently  put  to  me,  “ What  is  to  become  of  her  ?”  For  all  that  I advise 
you  to  do,  is  to  deal  with  workmen  as  with  servants ; and  verily  the  ques- 
tion is  of  weight : “ Your  bad  workman,  idler,  and  rogue — what  are  you 
to  do  with  him  ?” 

We  will  consider  of  this  presently:  remember  that  the  administration  of  a 
complete  system  of  national  commerce  and  industry  cannot  be  explained  in 

full  detail  within  the  space  of  twelve  pages.  Meantime,  consider  whether, 

3 


50 


THE  VEIN'S  OP  WEALTH. 


inactive  or  ill-governed  nation,  the  gradations  of  decay  and 
the  victories  of  treason  work  out  also  their  own  rugged  sys- 
tem of  subjection  and  success;  and  substitute,  for  the  melo- 
dious inequalities  of  concurrent  power,  the  iniquitous  domi- 
nances and  depressions  of  guilt  and  misfortune. 

Thus  the  circulation  of  wealth  in  a nation  resembles  that 
of  the  blood  in  the  natural  body.  There  is  one  quickness  of 
the  current  which  comes  of  cheerful  emotion  or  wholesome 
exercise;  and  another  which  comes  of  shame  or  of  fever. 
There  is  a flush  of  the  body  which  is  full  of  warmth  and  life ; 
and  another  which  will  pass  into  putrefaction. 

The  analogy  will  hold,  down  even  to  minute  particulars. 
For  as  diseased  local  determination  of  the  blood  involves 
depression  of  the  general  health  of  the  system,  all  morbid 
local  action  of  riches  will  be  found  ultimately  to  involve  a 
weakening  of  the  resources  of  the  body  politic. 

there  heing  confessedly  some  difficulty  in  dealing  with  rogues  and  idlers,  it 
may  not  bo  advisable  to  produce  as  few  of  them  as  possible.  If  you 
examine  into  the  history  of  rogues,  you  will  find  they  are  as  truly  manufac- 
tured articles  as  anything  else,  and  it  is  just  because  our  present  system 
of  pohtical  economy  gives  so  large  a stimulus  to  that  manufacture  that  you 
may  know  it  to  be  a false  one.  We  had  better  seek  for  a system  which 
will  develop  honest  men,  than  for  one  which  will  deal  cunningly  with  vaga- 
bonds. Let  us  reform  our  schools,  and  we  shall  find  little  reform  needed 
in  our  prisons. 


THE  VEINS  OF  WEALTH. 


51 


The  mode  in  which  this  is  produced  may  he  at  once  under- 
stood by  examining  one  or  two  instances  of  the  development 
of  wealth  in  the  simplest  possible  circumstances. 

Suppose  two  sailors  cast  away  on  an  uninhabited  coast, 
and  obliged  to  maintain  themselves  there  by  their  own  labour 
for  a series  of  years. 

If  they  both  kept  their  health,  and  worked  steadily,  and 
in  amity  with  each  other,  they  might  build  themselves  a con- 
venient house,  and  in  time  come  to  possess  a certain  quantity 
of  cultivated  land,  together  with  various  stores  laid  up  for 
future  use.  All  these  things  would  be  real  riches  or  pro- 
perty ; and  supposing  the  men  both  to  have  worked  equally 
hard,  they  would  each  have  right  to  equal  share  or  use  of  it. 
Their  political  economy  would  consist  merely  in  careful  pre- 
servation and  just  division  of  these  possessions.  Perhaps, 
however,  after  some  time  one  or  other  might  be  dissatisfied 
with  the  results  of  their  common  farming ; and  they  might 
in  consequence  agree  to  divide  the  land  they  had  brought 
under  the  spade  into  equal  shares,  so  that  each  might  thence- 
forward work  in  his  own  field  and  live  by  it.  Suppose  that 
after  this  arrangement  had  been  made,  one  of  them  were  to 
fall  ill,  and  be  unable  to  work  on  his  land  at  a critical  time- 
say  of  sowing  or  harvest. 

He  would  naturally  ask  the  other  to  sow  or  reap  for  him. 

Then  his  companion  might  say,  with  perfect  justice,  “1 


52 


THE  VEINS  OP  WEALTH, 


will  do  this  additioual  work  for  you  ; but  if  I do  it,  you  must 
promise  to  do  as  much  for  me  at  another  time.  I will  count 
how  many  hours  I spend  on  your  ground,  and  you  shall  give 
me  a written  promise  to  work  for  the  same  number  of  hours 
on  mine,  whenever  I need  your  help,  and  you  are  able  to 
give  it.” 

Suppose  the  disabled  man’s  sickness  to  continue,  and  that 
under  various  circumstances,  for  several  years,  requiring  the 
help  of  the  other,  he  on  each  occasion  gave  a written  pledge 
to  work,  as  soon  as  he  was  able,  at  his  companion’s  orders, 
for  the  same  number  of  hours  which  the  other  had  given  up 
to  him.  What  will  the  positions  of  the  two  men  be  when 
the  invalid  is  able  to  resume  work  ? 

Considered  as  a “ Polls,”  or  state,  they  will  be  poorer  than 
they  would  have  been  otherwise  : poorer  by  the  withdrawal 
of  what  the  sick  man’s  labour  would  have  produced  in  the 
interval.  His  friend  may  perhaps  have  toiled  with  an  energy 
quickened  by  the  enlarged  need,  but  in  the  end  his  own  land 
and  property  must  have  suffered  by  the  withdrawal  of  so 
much  of  his  time  and  thought  from  them ; and  the  united 
property  of  the  tvro  men  will  be  certainly  less  than  it  would 
have  been  if  both  had  remained  in  health  and  activity. 

But  the  relations  in  which  they  stand  to  each  other  are 
also  widely  altered.  The  sick  man  lias  not  only  pledged  his 
labour  for  some  years,  but  will  probably  have  exhausted  his 


THE  VEINS  OF  WEALTH. 


63 


own  share  of  the  accumulated  stores,  and  will  be  in  conse- 
quence for  some  time  dependent  on  the  other  for  food,  which 
he  can  only  “ pay  ” or  reward  him  for  by  yet  more  deeply 
pledging  his  own  labour. 

Supposing  the  written  promises  to  be  held  entirely  valid 
(among  civilized  nations  their  validity  is  secured  by  legal 
measures'*'),  the  person  who  had  hitherto  worked  for  both 
miglit  now,  if  he  chose,  rest  altogether,  and  pass  his  time  in 
idleness,  not  only  forcing  his  companion  to  redeem  all  the 
engagements  he  had  already  entered  into,  but  exacting  from 
him  pledges  for  further  labour,  to  an  arbitrary  amount,  for 
what  food  he  had  to  advance  to  him. 

There  might  not,  from  first  to  last,  be  the  least  illegality 

* The  disputes  which  exist  respecting  the  .real  nature  of  money  arise 
more  from  the  disputants  examining  its  functions  on  different  sides,  than 
from  anj  real  dissent  in  their  opinions.  All  money,  properly  so  called,  is 
an  acknowledgment  of  debt ; but  as  such,  it  may  either  be  considered  to 
represent  the  labour  and  property  of  the  creditor,  or  the  idleness  and 
penury  of  the  debtor.  The  intricacy  of  the  question  has  been  much 
increased  by  the  (hitherto  necessary)  use  of  marketable  commodities,  such 
as  gold,  silver,  salt,  shells,  Ac.,  to  give  intrinsic  value  or  security  to  cur- 
rency; but  the  final  and  best  definition  of  money  is  that  it  is  a docu- 
mentary promise  ratified  and  guaranteed  by  the  nation  to  give  or  find  a 
certain  quantity  of  labour  on  demand.  A man’s  labour  for  a day  is  a better 
standard  of  value  than  a measure  of  any  produce,  because  no  produce  ever 
maintains  a consistent  rate  of  productibility. 


54 


THE  VEINS  OP  WEALTH. 


(in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the  word)  in  the  arrangement ; 
but  if  a stranger  arrived  on  the  coast  at  this  advanced 
epoch  of  their  political  economy,  he  would  find  one  man 
commercially  Rich ; the  other  commercially  Poor.  He 
would  see,  perhaps  with  no  small  surprise,  one  passing  his 
days  in  idleness ; the  other  labouring  for  both,  and  living 
sparely,  in  the  hope  of  recovering  his  independence,  at 
some  distant  period. 

This  is,  of  course,  an  example  of  one  only  out  of  many 
ways  in  which  inequality  of  possession  may  be  established 
between  different  persons,  giving  rise  to  the  mercantile  forms 
of  Riches  and  Poverty.  In  the  instance  before  us,  one  of 
the  men  might  from  the  first  have  deliberately  chosen  to 
be  idle,  and  to  put  his  life  in  pawn  for  present  ease ; or  he 
might  have  mismanaged  his  land,  and  been  compelled  to 
have  recourse  to  his  neighbour  for  food  and  help,  pledging 
his  future  labour  for  it.  But  what  I want  the  reader  to 
note  especially  is  the  fact,  common  to  a large  number  of 
typical  cases  of  this  kind,  that  the  establishment  of  the 
mercantile  wealth  which  consists  in  a claim  upon  labour, 
signifies  a political  diminution  of  the  real  wealth  which 
consists  in  substantial  possessions. 

Take  another  example,  more  consistent  with  the  ordinary 
course  of  affairs  of  trade.  Suppose  that  three  men,  instead 
of  two,  formed  the  little  isolated  republic,  and  found  them- 


THE  VEINS  OF  WEALTH. 


55 


selves  obliged  to  separate  in  order  to  farm  different  pieces 
of  land  at  some  distance  from  each  other  along  the  coast ; 
each  estate  furnishing  a distinct  kind  of  produce,  and  each 
more  or  less  in  need  of  the  material  raised  on  the  other. 
Suppose  that  the  third  man,  in  order  to  save  the  time  of 
all  three,  undertakes  simply  to  superintend  the  transference 
of  commodities  from  one  farm  to  the  other ; on  condition 
of  receiving  some  sufficiently  remunerative  share  of  every 
parcel  of  goods  conveyed,  or  of  some  other  parcel  received 
in  exchange  for  it. 

If  this  carrier  or  messenger  always  brings  to  each  estate, 
from  the  other,  what  is  chiefly  wanted,  at  the  right  time, 
the  operations  of  the  two  farmers  will  go  on  prosperously, 
and  the  largest  possible  result  in  produce,  or  wealth,  will 
be  attained  by  the  little  community.  But  suppose  no  inter- 
course between  the  land  owners  is  possible,  except  through 
the  travelling  agent ; and  that,  after  a time,  this  agent, 
watching  the  course  of  each  man’s  agriculture,  keeps  back 
the  articles  with  which  he  has  been  entrusted  until  there 
comes  a period  of  extreme  necessity  for  them,  on  one  side 
or  other,  and  then  exacts  in  exchange  for  them  all  that 
the  distressed  farmer  can  spare  of  other  kinds  of  produce ; 
it  is  easy  to  see  that  by  ingeniously  watching  his  oppor- 
tunities, he  might  possess  himself  regularly  of  the  greater 
part  of  the  superfluous  produce  of  the  two  estates,  and  at 


56 


AD  VALOEEM. 


last,  ia  some  year  of  severest  trial  or  scarcity,  purchase 
Loth  for  himself,  and  maintain  the  former  proprietors  thence* 
forward  as  his  labourers  or  his  servants. 

This  would  be  a case  of  commercial  wealth  acquired  on 
the  exactest  principles  of  modern  political  economy.  But 
more  distinctly  even  than  in  the  former  instance,  it  is  mani- 
fest in  this  that  the  wealth  of  the  State,  or  of  the  three 
men  considered  as  a society,  is  collectively  less  than  it 
would  have  been  had  the  merchant  been  content  with  juster 
profit.  The  operations  of  the  two  agriculturists  have  been 
cramped  to  the  utmost;  and  the  continual  limitations  of 
the  supply  of  things  they  wanted  at  critical  times,  together 
with  the  failure  of  courage  consequent  on  the  prolongation 
of  a struggle  for  mere  existence,  without  any  sense  of  per- 
manent gain,  must  have  seriously  diminished  the  efiective 
i*esults  of  their  labour ; and  the  stores  finally  accumulated 
in  the  merchant’s  hands  will  not  in  anywise  be  of  equivalent 
value  to  those  which,  had  his  dealings  been  honest,  would 
have  filled  at  once  the  granaries  of  the  farmers  and  his  own. 

The  whole  question,  therefore,  respecting  not  only  the 
advantage,  but  even  the  quantity,  of  national  wealth,  resolves 
itself  finally  into  one  of  abstract  justice.  It  is  impossible  to 
conclude,  of  any  given  mass  of  acquired  wealth,  merely  by 
the  fact  of  its  existence,  whether  it  signifies  good  or  evil 
to  the  nation  in  the  midst  of  which  it  exists.  Its  real  value 


THE  VEINS  OF  WEALTH. 


57 


depends  on  the  moral  sign  attached  to  it,  just  as  sternly  as 
that  of  a mathematical  quantity  depends  on  the  algebraical 
sign  attached  to  it.  Any  given  accumulation  of  commercial 
wealth  may  be  indicative,  on  the  one  hand,  of  faithful 
industries,  progressive  energies,  and  productive  ingenuities; 
or,  on  the  other,  it  may  be  indicative  of  mortal  luxury, 
merciless  tyranny,  ruinous  chicane.  Some  treasures  are 
heavy  with  human  tears,  as  an  ill-stored  harvest  with 
untimely  rain ; and  some  gold  is  brighter  in  sunshine  than 
it  is  in  substance. 

And  these  are  not,  observe,  merely  moral  or  pathetic  attri- 
butes of  riches,  which  the  seeker  of  riches  may,  if  he  chooses, 
desnise ; they  are  literally  and  sternly,  mnterial  attributes  of 
riches,  depreciating  or  exalting,  incalculably,  the  monetary 
signitication  of  the  sum  in  question.  One  mass  of  money  is 
the  outcome  of  action  which  has  created, — another,  of  action 
which  has  annihilated, — ten  times  as  much  in  the  gathering 
of  it ; such  and  such  strong  hands  have  been  paralyzed,  as  if 
they  had  been  numbed  by  nightshade : so  many  strong  men’s 
courage  broken,  so  many  productive  operations  hindered;  this 
nd  the  other  false  direction  given  to  labour,  and  lying  image 
of  prosperity  set  up,  on  Dura  plains  dug  into  seven-tinies- 
heated  furnaces.  That  which  seems  to  be  wealth  may  in 
verity  be  only  tne  gilded  index  of  far-reaching  ruin ; a 

wrecker’s  handful  of  coin  gleaned  from  the  beach  to  which  he 
3* 


58 


THE  VEINS  OF  WEALTH. 


has  beguiled  an  argosy;  a camp-follower’s  bundle  of  rags 
unwrapped  from  the  breasts  of  goodly  soldiers  dead;  the 
purchase-pieces  of  potter’s  fields,  wherein  shall  be  buried 
together  the  citizen  and  the  stranger. 

And  therefore,  the  idea  that  directions  can  be  grven  for  the 
gaining  of  wealth,  irrespectively  of  the  consideration  of  its 
moral  sources,  or  that  any  general  and  technical  law  of  pur- 
chase and  gain  can  be  set  down  for  national  practice,  is  perhaps 
the  most  insolently  futile  of  all  that  ever  beguiled  men  through 
their  vices.  So  far  as  I know,  there  is  not  in  history  record 
of  anything  so  disgraceful  to  the  human  intellect  as  the 
modern  idea  that  the  commercial  text,  “ Buy  in  the  cheapest 
market  and  sell  in  the  dearest,”  represents,  or  under  any  cir- 
cumstances could  represent,  an  available  principle  of  national 
economy.  Buy  in  the  cheapest  market? — yes;  but  what 
made  your  market  cheap  ? Charcoal  may  be  cheap  among 
your  roof  timbers  after  a fire,  and  bricks  may  be  cheap  in 
your  streets  after  an  earthquake ; but  fire  and  earthquake  may 
not  therefore  be  national  benefits.  Sell  in  the  dearest  ? — yes, 
truly ; but  what  made  your  market  dear  ? You  sold  your 
bread  well  to-day ; was  it  to  a dying  man  who  gave  his  last 
coin  for  it,  and  will  never  need  bread  more,  or  to  a rich  man 
who  to-morrow  will  buy  your  farm  over  your  head;  or  to  a 
soldier  on  his  way  to  pillage  the  bank  in  which  you  have  put 
your  fortune  ? 


THE  VEINS  OF  WEALTH. 


59 


None  of  these  things  you  can  know.  One  thing  only  you 
can  know,  namely,  whether  this  dealing  of  yours  is  a just  and 
faithful  one,  which  is  all  you  need  concern  yourself  about 
respecting  it ; sure  thus  to  have  done  your  own  part  in  bring- 
ing about  ultimately  in  the  world  a state  of  things  which  will 
not  issue  in  pillage  or  in  death.  And  thus  every  question 
concerning  these  things  merges  itself  ultimately  in  the  great 
question  of  justice,  which,  the  ground  being  thus  far  cleared 
for  it,  I will  enter  upon  in  the  next  paper,  leaving  only,  in 
this,  three  final  points  for  the  reader’s  consideration. 

It  has  been  shown  that  the  chief  value  and  virtue  of  money 
consists  in  its  having  power  over  human  beings ; that,  with- 
out this  power,  large  material  possessions  are  useless,  and  to 
any  person  possessing  such  power,  comparatively  unnecessary. 
But  power  over  human  beings  is  attainable  by  other  means 
than  by  money.  As  I said  a few  pages  back,  the  money 
power  is  always  imperfect  and  doubtful ; there  are  many 
things  which  cannot  be  retained  by  it.  Many  joys  may  be 
given  to  men  which  cannot  be  bought  for  gold,  and  many 
fidelities  found  in  them  which  cannot  be  rewarded  with  it. 

Trite  enough, — the  reader  thinks.  Yes:  but  it  is  not  so 
trite, — I wish  it  were, — that  in  this  moral  power,  quite  in- 
scrutable and  immeasurable  though  it  be,  there  is  a monetary 
value  just  as  real  as  that  represented  by  more  ponderous 
currencies.  A man’s  hand  may  be  full  of  invisible  gold,  and 


60 


THE  VEINS  OF  WEALTH. 


the  wave  of  it,  or  the  grasp,  shall  do  more  than  another’s 
with  a shower  of  bullion.  This  invisible  gold,  also,  does  not 
necessarily  diminish  in  spending.  Political  economists  will 
do  well  some  day  to  take  heed  of  it,  though  they  cannot  take 
measure. 

But  farther.  Since  the  essence  of  wealth  consists  in  its 
authority  over  men,  if  the  apparent  or  nominal  wealth  fail  in 
this  power,  it  fails  in  essence ; in  fact,  ceases  to  be  wealth  at 
all.  It  does  not  appear  lately  in  England,  that  our  authority 
over  men  is  absolute.  The  servants  show  some  disposition 
to  rush  riotously  upstairs,  under  an  impression  that  their 
wages  are  not  regularly  paid.  We  should  augur  ill  of  any 
gentleman’s  property  to  whom  this  happened  every  other 
day  in  his  drawing-room. 

So  also,  the  power  of  our  wealth  seems  limited  as  respects 
the  comfort  of  the  servants,  no  less  than  their  quietude.  The 
persons  in  the  kitchen  appear  to  be  ill-dressed,  squalid,  half- 
starved.  One  cannot  help  imagining  that  the  riches  of  tlie 
establishment  must  be  of  a very  theoretical  and  documentary 
character. 

Finally.  Since  the  essence  of  wealth  consists  in  power  over 
men,  will  it  not  follow  that  the  nobler  and  the  more  in  num- 
ber the  persons  are  over  whom  it  has  power,  the  greater  the 
wealth  ? Perhaps  it  may  even  appear  after  some  consider- 
ation, that  the  persons  themselves  are  the  wealth — that  these 


THE  VEINS  OF  WEALTH. 


G1 


pieces  of  gold  with  which  we  are  in  the  habit  of  guiding 
them,  are,  in  fact,  nothing  more  than  a kind  of  Byzaiit  ne 
liarness  or  trappings,  very  glittering  and  beautiful  in  barbaric 
sight,  -wherewith  we  bridle  the  creatures ; but  that  if  these 
same  living  creatures  could  be  guided  without  the  fretting 
and  jingling  of  the  Byzants  in  their  mouths  and  ears,  they 
might  themselves  be  more  valuable  than  their  bridles.  In 
fact,  it  may  be  discovered  that  the  true  veins  of  wealth  fi’-e 
pTij”>V- — and  not  in  Rock,  b^’^  — perhaps  even  that 

me  linal  outcome  and  consuimiuition  of  all  wealth  is  in  the 
producing  as  many  as  possible  full-breathed,  bright-eyed,  and 
happy-liearted  human  creatures.  Our  modern  wealth,  I 
think,  lias  rather  a tendency  the  other  way  ; — most  political 
economists  appearing  to  consider  multitudes  of  human  crea- 
tures not  conducive  to  wealth,  or  at  best  conducive  to  it  only 
by  remaining  in  a dim-eyed  and  narrow-chested  state  of 
being. 

Xevertheless,  it  is  open,  I repeat,  to  serious  question, 
which  I leave  to  the  reader’s  pondering,  whether,  among 
national  manufactures,  that  of  Souls  of  a good  quality  may 
not  at  last  turn  out  a quite  leadingly  lucrative  one  ? iiay, 
in  some  far-away  and  yet  undrearnt-of  hour,  I can  even 
imagine  that  England  may  cast  all  thoughts  of  possessive 
wealth  back  to  the  barbaric  nations  among  whom  they  first 
arose;  and  that,  while  the  sands  of  the  Indus  and  adamant 


62 


THE  VEINS  OF  WEALTH. 


of  Golconda  may  yet  stiffen  the  housings  of  the  charger, 
and  flash  from  the  turban  of  the  slave,  she,  as  a Christian 
mother,  may  at  last  attain  to  the  virtues  and  the  treasures 
of  a Heathen  one,  and  be  able  to  lead  forth  her  Sons, 
saying,— 

“ These  are  my  Jewels.” 


ESSAY  III. 


QUI  JUDICATIS  TERR  AM. 

Some  centuries  before  the  Christian  era,  a Jew  merchant 
largely  engaged  in  business  on  the  Gold  Coast,  and  report- 
ed to  have  made  one  of  the  largest  fortunes  of  his  time 
(held  also  in  repute  for  much  practical  sagacity),  left  among 
his  ledgers  some  general  maxims  concerning  wealth,  which 
liave  been  preserved,  strangely  enough,  even  to  our  own 
days.  They  were  held  'in  considerable  respect  by  the  most 
active  traders  of  the  middle  ages,  especially  by  the  Vene- 
tians, who  even  went  so  fiir  in  their  admiration  as  to  place 
a statue  of  the  old  Jew  on  the  angle  of  one  of  their  prin- 
cipal public  buildings.  Of  late  years  these  writings  have 
fallen  into  disrepute,  being  opposed  in  every  particular  to 
the  spirit  of  modern  commerce.  Nevertheless  I shall  repro- 
duce a passage  or  two  from  them  here,  partly  because  they 
may  interest  the  reader  by  their  novelty;  and  chiefly 
because  they  will  show  him  that  it  is  possible  for  a very 
practical  and  acquisitive  tradesman  to  hold,  through  a not 
unsuccessful  career,  that  principle  of  distinction  between 
well -gotten  and  ill-gotten  wealth,  which,  partially  insisted 


64 


QUI  JUDICATIS  TEKRAM. 


on  in  my  last  paper,  it  must  be  our  work  morq  completely 
to  examine  in  this. 

He  says,  for  instance,  in  one  place:  “The  getting  of 
treasure  by  a lying  tongue  is  a vanity  tossed  to  and  fro 
of  them  that  seek  death adding  in  another,  with  the 
same  meaning  (he  has  a curious  way  of  doubling  his  say- 
ings): “Treasures  of  wickedness  profit  nothing;  but  justice 
delivers  from  death.”  Both  these  passages  are  notable  for 
their  asseriion  of  death  as  the  only  real  issue  and  sum  of 
attainment  by  any  unjust  scheme  of  wealth.  If  we  read, 
instead  of  “lying  tongue,”  “lying  label,  title,  pretence,  or 
advertisement,”  we  shall  more  clearly  perceive  the  bearing 
of  the  words  on  modern  business.  The  seeking  of  death 
is  a grand  expression  of  the  true  course  of  men’s  toil  in 
s"uch  business.  We  usually  speak  as  if  death  pursued  us, 
and  we  fled  from  him  ; but  that  is  only  so  in  rare  instan- 
ces. Ordinarily,  he  masks  himself— makes  himself  beautiful 
— all-glorious ; not  like  the  King’s  daughter,  all-glorious 
within,  but  outwardly  : his  clothing  of  wrought  gold.  We 
pursue  him  frantically  all  our  days,  he  flying  or  hiding 
from  us.  Our  crowning  success  at  three-score  and  ten  is 
utterly  and  perfectly  to  seize,  and  hold  him  in  his  eternal 
integrity — robes,  ashes,  and  sting. 

Again  : the  merchant  says,  “ He  that  oppresseth  the  poor 
to  increase  his  riches,  shall  surely  come  to  want.”  And 


QUI  JUDICATIS  TERRAM. 


05 


again,  more  strongly : “ Rob  not  the  poor  because  be  is 
poor;  neither  oppress  the  afflicted  in  the  place  of  business. 
For  God  shall  spoil  the  soul  of  those  that  spoiled  them.” 

This  “ robbing  tlie  poor  because  he  is  poor,”  is  especially 
the  mercantile  form  of  theft,  consisting  in  taking  advantaga 
of  a mail’s  necessities  in  order  to  obtain  his  labour  or  pro- 
perty at  a reduced  price.  The  ordinary  highwayman’s  oppo- 
site form  of  robbery — of  the  rich,  because  he  is  rich — does 
not  appear  to  occur  so  often  to  the  old  merchant’s  mind  ; 
probably  because,  being  less  profitable  and  more  dangerous 
than  the  robbery  of  the  poor,  it  is  rax’ely  practised  by  persons 
of  discretion. 

But  the  two  most  remarkable  passages  in  their  deep  gene- 
ral signiGcance  are  the  following  : — 

“The  rich  and  the  poor  have  met.  God  is  their  maker.” 

“ Tile  rich  and  the  poor  have  met.  God  is  their  light.” 
They  “have  met:”  more  literally,  have  stood  in  each 
other’s  way  {obviaverunt).  That  is  to  say,  as  long  as  the 
world  lasts,  the  action  and  counteraction  of  wealth  and 
poverty,  the  meeting,  face  to  face,  of  rich  and  poor,  is  just  as 
appointed  and  necessary  a law  of  that  world  as  the  flow  of 
stream  to  sea,  or  the  interchange  of  power  among  the  elec 
trie  clouds ; — “ God  is  their  maker.”  But,  also,  this  actioTi 
may  be  either  gentle  and  just,  or  convulsive  and  destructive : 
it  may  be  by  rage  of  devouring  flood,  or  by  lapse  of  service- 


66 


QXJI  JUDICATIS  TERR  AM. 


able  wave ; — in  blackness  of  thunderstroke,  or  continual  force 
of  vital  fire,  soft,  and  shapeable  into  love-syllables  from 
far  away.  And  which  of  these  it  sh:ill  be  depends  on  botJi 
rich  and  poor  knowing  that  God  is  their  light ; that  in  the 
mystery  of  human  life,  there  is  no  other  light  than  this  by 
which  they  can  see  each  other’s  faces,  and  live; — light,  which 
is  called  in  another  of  the  books  among  which  the  merchant’s 
maxims  have  been  preserved,  the  “ sun  of  justice,”*  of  which 
it  is  promised  that  it  shall  rise  at  last  with  “ healing  ” (health- 
giving or  helping,  making  whole  or  setting  at  one)  in  its 
wings.  For  truly  this  healing  is  only  possible  by  means  of 
justice ; no  love,  no  faith,  no  hope  will  do  it ; men  will  be 

* More  accurately,  Sun  of  Justness;  but,  instead  of  tlie  barsb  word 
“ Justness,”  the  old  English  “ Righteousness”  being  commonly  employed, 
has,  by  getting  confused  with  “ godliness,”  or  attracting  about  it  various 
vague  and  broken  meanings,  prevented  most  persons  from  receiving  the 
force  of  the  passages  in  which  it  occurs.  The  word  “ righteousness  ” pro- 
perly refers  to  the  justice  of  rule,  or  right,  as  distinguished  from  “ equity,” 
which  refers  to  the  justice  of  balance.  More  broadly.  Righteousness  is 
King’s  justice ; and  Equity,  Judge’s  justice ; the  King  guiding  or  ruling  aU, 
the  Judge  dividing  or  discerning  between  opposites  (therefore,  the  double 
question,  “ Man,  who  made  me  a ruler — Jt/caar>)r — or  a divider — ^epicriis-— 
over  you  ?”)  Thus,  with  respect  to  the  Justice  of  Choice  (selection,  the 
feebler  and  passive  justice),  we  have  from  lego, — lex,  legal,  loi,  and  loyal ; 
and  with  respect  to  the  Justice  of  Rule  (direction,  the  stronger  and  active 
justice),  we  have  from  rego, — ^rcx,  regal,  roi,  and  royal. 


QTJI  JUDICATIS  TfiRRAM. 


6"< 

unwisely  fond — vainly  faithful,  unless  primarily  they  are  just; 
and  the  mistake  of  the  best  men  through  generation  after 
generation,  has  been  that  great  one  of  thinking  to  help  the 
poor  by  almsgiving,  and  by  preaching  of  patience  or  of  hope, 
and  by  every  other  means,  emollient  or  consolatory,  except 
the  one  thing  which  God  orders  for  them,  justice.  But  this 
justice,  with  its  accompanying  holiness  or  helpfulness,  being 
even  by  the  best  men  denied  in  its  trial  time,  is  by  the  mass 
of  men  hated  wherever  it  appears  : so  that,  when  the  choice 
was  one  day  fairly  put  to  them,  they  denied  the  Helpful  One 
and  the  Just;^  and  desired  a murderer,  sedition-raiser,  and 
robber,  to  be  granted  to  them  ; — the  murderer  instead  of  the 
Lord  of  Life,  the  sedition-raiser  instead  of  the  Prince  of 
Peace,  and  the  robber  instead  of  the  Just  Judge  of  all  the 
world. 

I have  just  spoken  of  the  flowing  of  streams  to  the  sea  as 
a partial  image  of  the  action  of  wealth.  In  one  respect  it  is 
not  a partial,  but  a perfect  image.  The  popular  economist 
thinks  himself  wise  in  having  discovered  that  wealth,  or  the 
forms  of  property  in  general,  must  go  where  they  are 
required ; that  where  demand  is,  supply  must  follow.  He 
farther  declares  that  this  course  of  demand  and  supply  cannot 
be  forbidden  by  human  laws.  Precisely  in  the  same  sense, 

* In  auotlier  place  written  with  the  same  meaning,  “ Just,  and  having 


salvation.’ 


68 


QUI  JUDICATIS  TEBEAM. 


and  with  the  same  certainty,  the  waters  of  the  world  go 
'where  they  are  required.  Where  the  land  falls,  the  water 
flows.  The  course  neither  of  clouds  nor  rivers  can  be  forbid- 
den by  human  will.  But  the  disposition  and  administration 
of  them  can  be  altered  by  human  forethought.  Whether  the 
stream  shall  be  a curse  or  a blessing,  depends  upon  man’s 
labour,  and  administrating  intelligence.  For  centuries  after 
centuries,  great  districts  of  the  world,  rich  in  soil,  and 
favoured  in  climate,  have  lain  desert  under  the  rage  of  their 
own  rivers  ; nor  only  desert,  but  plague-struck.  The  stream 
which,  rightly  directed,  would  have  flowed  in  soft  irrigation 
from  field  to  field — would  have  purified  the  air,  given  food  to 
man  and  beast,  and  carried  their  burdens  for  them  on  its 
bosom — now  overwhelms  the  plain,  and  poisons  the  wind; 
its  breath  pestilence,  and  its  work  famine.  In  like  mannei 
this  wealth  “ goes  where  it  is  required.”  'No  human  laws  can 
withstand  its  flow.  They  can  only  guide  it : but  this,  the 
leading  trench  and  limiting  mound  can  do  so  thoroughly, 
that  it  shall  become  water  of  life — the  riches  of  tlie  hand 
of  wisdom ; * or,  on  the  contrary,  by  leaving  it  to  its  own 
lawless  flow,  they  may  make  it,  wdiat  it  has  been  too  often,  the 
last  and  deadliest  of  national  plagues  : water  of  Marah — the 
water  which  feeds  the  roots  of  all  evil. 

The  necessity  of  these  laws  of  distribution  or  restraint 

* “ Length  of  days  in  her  right  hand ; in  her  left,  riches  and  honour.” 


QUl  JUDICATIS  TERKAM. 


69 


is  curiously  overlooked  in  the  ordinary  political  econo- 
mist’s definition  of  his  own  “ science.”  He  calls  it,  shortly, 
the  “ science  of  getting  rich.”  But  there  are  many  sciences, 
as  well  as  many  arts,  of  getting  rich.  Poisoning  people  of 
large  estates,  was  one  employed  largely  in  the  middle  ages ; 
adulteration  of  food  of  people  of  small  estates,  is  one 
employed  largely  now.  The  ancient  and  honourable  High- 
land method  of  blackmail;  the  more  modern  and  less  honour- 
able system  of  obtaining  goods  on  credit,  and  the  other 
variously  improved  methods  of  appropriation — which,  in 
major  and  minor  scales  of  industry,  down  to  the  most 
artistic  pocket-picking,  we  owe  to  recent  genius, — all  come 
under  the  general  head  of  sciences,  or  arts,  of  getting  rich. 

So  that  it  is  clear  the  popular  economist,  in  calling  his 
science  the  science  excellence  of  getting  rich,  must  attach 
some  peculiar  ideas  of  limitation  to  its  character.  I hope  I 
do  not  misrepresent  him,  by  assuming  that  he  means  his 
science  to  be  the  science  of  “ getting  rich  by  legal  or  just 
means.”  In  this  definition,  is  the  word  “just,”  or  “legal,” 
finally  to  stand?  For  it  is  possible  among  certain  nations,  or 
under  certain  rulers,  or  by  help  of  certain  advocates,  that 
proceedings  may  be  legal  which  are  by  no  means  just.  If, 
therefore,  we  leave  at  last  only  the  word  “just”  in  that  place 
of  our  definition,  the  insertion  of  this  solitary  and  small  word 
will  make  a notable  difference  in  the  grammar  of  our  science. 


70 


QUI  JUDICATIS  TERRAM. 


For  then  it  will  follow  that,  in  order  to  grow  rich  scientifically, 
we  must  grow  rich  justly ; and,  therefore,  know  what  is  just ; 
so  that  our  economy  will  no  longer  depend  merely  on 
prudence,  but  on  jurisprudence — and  that  of  divine,  not 
human  law.  Which  prudence  is  indeed  of  no  mean  order, 
holding  itself,  as  it  were,  high  in  the  air  of  heaven,  and 
gazing  for  ever  on  the  light  of  the  sun  of  justice ; hence  the 
souls  which  have  excelled  in  it  are  represented  by  Dante  as 
stars  forming  in  heaven  for  ever  the  figure  of  the  eye  of  an 
eagle  : they  having  been  in  life  the  discerners  of  light  from 
darkness;  or  to  the  whole  human  race,  as  the  light  of  the 
body,  which  is  the  eye;  while  those  souls  which  form  the 
wings  of  the  bird  (giving  power  and  dominion  to  justice, 
“ healing  in  its  wings  ”)  trace  also  in  light  the  inscription  in 
heaven  : “ diligite  justitiam  qui  judicatis  terram.”  “ Ye 
who  judge  the  earth,  give”  (not,  observe,  merely  love,  but) 
“ diligent  love  to  justice the  love  which  seeks  diligently, 
that  is  to  say,  choosingly,  and  by  preference  to  all  things  else. 
Which  judging  or  doing  judgment  in  the  earth  is,  according 
to  their  capacity  and  position,  required  not  of  judges  only, 
nor  of  rulers  only,  but  of  all  men  a truth  sorrowfully  lost 

* I hear  that  several  of  our  lawyers  have  been  greatly  amused  by  the’ 
statement  in  the  first  of  these  papers  that  a lawyer’s  function  was  to  do 
justice.  I do  not  intend  it  for  a jest ; nevertheless  it  will  be  seen  that  in 
the  above  passage  neither  the  determination  nor  doing  of  justice  are  contem- 


QUI  JUDICATIS  TERRAM. 


sight  of  even  by  tliose  who  are  ready  enough  to  apply  to 
tlieinselves  passages  in  which  Christian  men  are  spoken  of  as 
called  to  be  “ saints  ” (i.e.  to  helpful  or  healing  functions) ; 
and  “chosen  to  be  kings”  (i.e.  to  knowing  or  directing 
functions) ; the  true  meaning  of  these  titles  having  been  long 
lost  through  the  pretences  of  unhelpful  and  unable  persons 
to  saintly  and  kingly  character;  also  through  the  once 
popular  idea  that  both  the  sanctity  and  royalty  are  to  consist 
in  Avearing  long  robes  and  high  crowns,  instead  of  in  mercy 
and  judgment ; whereas  all  true  sanctity  is  saving  power,  as 
all  true  royalty  is  ruling  power;  and  injustice  is  part  and 
parcel  of  the  denial  of  such  power,  which  “ makes  men  as 
the  creeping  things,  as  the  fishes  of  the  sea,  that  have  no 
ruler  over  them.”  * 

Absolute  justice  is  indeed  no  more  attainable  than  absolute 
truth ; but  the  righteous  man  is  distinguished  from  the 
unrighteous  by  his  desire  and  hope  of  justice,  as  the  true 

plated  as  functions  wholly  peculiar  to  the  lawyer.  Possibly,  the  more  our 
standing  armies,  whether  of  soldiers,  pastors,  or  legislators  (the  generic  term 
“pastor  ” including  all  teachers,  and  the  generic  term  “lawyer”  including 
makers  as  well  as  interpreters  of  law),  can  be  superseded  by  the  force  of 
national  heroism,  wisdom,  and  honesty,  the  better  it  may  be  for  the  nation. 

* It  being  the  privilege  of  the  fishes,  as  it  is  of  rats  and  wolves,  to  hve 
by  the  laws  of  demand  and  supply ; but  the  distinction  of  humanity,  to  live 
by  those  of  right. 


72 


QUI  JUDICATIS  TERKAM. 


man  from  the  false  by  liis  desire  and  hope  of  truth.  And 
though  absolute  justice,  be  unuttainable,  as  much  justice  as 
we  need  for  all  practical  use  is  attainable  by  all  those  who 
make  it  their  aim. 

We  have  to  examine,  then,  in  the  subject  before  us,  what 
are  the  laws  of  justice  respecting  payment  of  labour — ^no 
small  part,  these,  of  the  foundations  of  all  jurisprudence. 

I reduced,  in  my  last  paper,  the  idea  of  money  payment  to 
its  simplest  or  radical  terms.  In  those  terms  its  nature,  and 
the  conditions  of  justice  respecting  it,  can  be  best  ascertained. 

Money  payment,  as  there  stated,  consists  radically  in  a 
promise  to  some  person  working  for  us,  that  for  the  time 
and  labour  he  spends  in  our  service  to-day  we  will  give  or 
procure  equivalent  time  and  labour  in  his  service  at  any 
future  time  when  he  may  demand  it.* 

* It  might  appear  at  first  that  the  market  price  of  labour  expressed  such 
an  exchange:  but  this  is  a fallacy,  for  the  market  price  is  the  momentary 
price  of  the  kind  of  labour  required,  but  the  just  price  is  its  equivalent 
of  the  productive  labour  of  mankind.  This  difference  will  be  analyzed  in 
its  place.  It  must  be  noted  also  that  I speak  here  only  of  the  exchange- 
able value  of  labour,  not  of  that  of  commodities.  The  exchangeable  value 
of  a commodity  is  that  of  the  labour  required  to  produce  it,  multiplied 
into  the  force  of  the  demand  for  it.  If  the  value  of  the  labour  = a;  and 
the  force  of  the  demand  = y,  the  exchangeable  value  of  the  commodity 
is  X y,  in  which  if  either  x = 0,  or  y =■  0,  xy  = 0 


QUI  JUDIOATIS  TEREAM. 


13 


If  we  promise  to  give  him  less  labour  than  he  has  given 
us,  we  under-pay  him.  If  we  promise  to  give  him  more 
labour  than  he  has  given  us,  we  over-pay  him.  In  practice, 
according  to  the  laws  of  demand  and  supply,  when  two 
men  are  ready  to  do  the  work,  and  only  one  man  wants 
to  have  it  done,  the  two  men  underbid  each  other  for  it ; 
and  the  one  who  gets  it  to  do,  is  under-paid.  But  when 
two  men  want  the  work  done,  and  there  is  only  one  man 
ready  to  do  it,  the  t^vo  men  who  want  it  done  over-bid 
each  other,  and  the  workman  is  ovei-paid. 

I will  examine  these  two  points  of  injustice  in  succession ; 
but  first  I wish  the  reader  to  clearly  understand  the  central 
principle,  lying  between  the  two,  of  right  or  just  payment. 

When  we  ask  a service  of  any  man,  he  may  either 
give  it  us  freely,  or  demand  payment  for  it.  Respecting 
free  gift  of  service,  there  is  no  question  at  present,  that 
being  a matter  of  affection — not  of  traffic.  But  if  he  demand 
payment  for  it,  and  we  wish  to  treat  him  with  absolute 
equity,  it  is  evident  that  this  equity  can  only  consist  in 
giving  time  for  time,  strength  for  strength,  and  skill  for 
skill.  If  a man  works  an  hour  for  us,  and  we  only  j)romise 
to  work  half-an-hour  for  him  in  return,  we  obtain  an  unjust 
advantage.  If,  on  the  contrary,  we  promise  to  work  an 
hour  and  a half  for  him  in  return,  he  has  an  unjust  advan- 
tage. The  justice  consists  in  absolute  exchange ; or,  if 
4 


74 


Q¥I  JUDICATIS  TEREAM. 


there  be  any  respect  to  the  stations  of  the  parties,  it  will 
not  be  in  favour  of  the  employer:  there  is  certainly  no 
equitable  reason  in  a man’s  being  poor,  that  if  he  give  mo 
a pomid  of  bread  to-day,  I should  return  him  less  than  a 
pound  of  bread  to-morrow;  or  any  equitable  reason  in  a 
man’s  being  uneducated,  that  if  he  uses  a certain  quantity 
of.  skill  and  knowledge  in  my  service,  I should  use  a less 
quantity  of  skill  and  knowledge  in  his.  Perhaps,  ultimately, 
it  may  appear  desirable,  or,  to  say  the  least,  gracious,  that 
I should  give  in  return  somewhat  more  than  I received. 
But  at  present,  we  are  concerned  on  the  law  of  justice  only, 
which  is  that  of  perfect  and  accurate  exchange ; — one  cir- 
cumstance only  interfering  with  the  simplicity  of  this  radical 
idea  of  just  payment — that  inasmuch  as  labour  (rightly 
directed)  is  fruitful  just  as  seed  is,  the  fruit  (or  “ interest,” 
as  it  is  called)  of  the  labour  first  given,  or  “ advanced,” 
ought  to  be  taken  into  account,  and  balanced  by  an  addi- 
tional quantity  of  labour  in  the  subsequent  repayment. 
Supposing  the  repayment  to  take  place  at  the  end  of  a year, 
or  of  any  other  given  time,  this  calculation  could  be 
approximately  made;  but  as  money  (that  is  to  say,  cash) 
payment  involves  no  reference  to  time  (it  being  optional 
with  the  person  paid  to  spend  what  he  receives  at  once  or 
after  any  number  of  years),  we  can  only  assume,  generally, 
that  some  slight  advantage  must  in  equity  be  allowed  to 


QUI  JUDICATIS  TERKAM. 


75 


the  person  who  advances  the  labour,  so  that  the  typical 
form  of  bargain  will  be : If  you  give  me  an  hour  to-day, 
I will  give  you  an  hour  and  five  minutes  on  demands  If 
you  give  me  a pound  of  bread  to-day,  I will  give  you 
seventeen  ounces  on  demand,  and  so  on.  All  that  it  is  neces- 
sary for  the  reader  to  note  is,  that  the  amount  returned  is 
at  least  in  equity  not  to  be  less  than  the  amount  given. 

The  abstract  idea,  then,  of  just  or  due  wages,  as  respects 
the  labourer,  is  that  they  will  consist  in  a sum  of  money 
which  will  at  any  time  procure  for  him  at  least  as  much  labour 
as  he  has  given,  rather  more  than  less.  And  this  equity  or 
justice  of  payment  is,  observe,  wholly  independent  of  any 
reference  to  the  number  of  men  who  are  willing  to  do  the 
work.  I want  a horseshoe.for  my  horse.  Twenty  smiths,  or 
twenty  thousand  smiths,  may  be  ready  to  forge  it ; their 
number  does  not  in  one  atom’s  weight  affect  the  question  of 
the  equitable  payment  of  the  one  who  does  forge  it.  It  costs 
him  a quarter  of  an  hour  of  his  life,  and  so  much  skill  and 
strength  of  arm  to  make  that  horseshoe  for  me.  Then  at 
some  future  time  I am  bound  in  equity  to  give  a quarter  of 
an  hour,  and  some  minutes  more,  of  my  life  (or  of  some  other 
person’s  at  my  disposal),  and  also  as  much  strength  of  arm 
and  skill,  and  a little  more,  in  making  or  doing  what  the 
smith  may  have  need  of. 

Such  being  the  abstract  theory  of  just  remunerative  pay- 


^6 


QUI  JUDICATIS  TERRAM. 


ment,  its  application  is  practically  modified  by  the  fact  that 
the  order  for  labour,  given  in  payment,  is  general,  while 
labour  received  is  special.  The  current  coin  or  document 
is  practically  an  order  on  the  nation  for  so  much  work*6f 
any  kind;  and  this  universal  applicability  to  immediate 
need  renders  it  so  much  more  valuable  than  special  labour 
can  be,  that  an  order  for  a less  quantity  of  this  general  toil  will 
always  be  accepted  as  a just  equivalent  for  a greater  quantity 
of  special  toil.  Any  given  craftsman  will  always  be  willing  to 
give  an  hour  of  his  own  work  in  order  to  receive  command 
over  half-an-hour,  or  even  much  less,  of  national  work.  This 
source  of  uncertainty,  together  with  the  difficulty  of  deter- 
mining the  monetary  value  of  skill,*  renders  the  ascertainment 

Under  tlie  term  “skill”  I mean  to  include  the  united  force  of  experi- 
ence, intellect,  and  passion  in  their  operation  on  manual  labour ; and  under 
the  term  “passion,”  to  include  the  entire  range  and  agency  of  the  moral 
feelings ; from  the  simple  patience  and  gentleness  of  mind  which  wQl  give 
continuity  and  fineness  to  the  touch,  or  enable  one  person  to  work  without 
fatigue,  and  with  good  effect,  twice  as  long  as  another,  up  to  the  qualities 
of  character  which  render  science  possible — (the  retardation  of  science  by 
envy  is  one  of  the  most  tremendous  losses  in  the  economy  of  the  present 
century) — and  to  the  incommunicable  emotion  and  imagination  which  are 
the  first  and  mightiest  sources  of  all  value  in  art. 

It  is  highly  singular  that  political  economists  should  not  yet  have 
perceived,  if  not  the  moral,  at  least  the  passionate  element,  to  be  an  inextri- 
cable quantity  in  every  calculation.  I cannot  conceive,  for  instance,  how  it 


QUI  JUDICATIS  TERRAM. 


11 


(even  approximate)  of  the  proper  wages  of  any  given  labour 
in  terms  of  a currency,  matter  of  considerable  complexity. 
But  they  do  not  affect  the  principle  of  exchange.  The  worth 
of<.the  work  may  not  be  easily  known ; but  it  has  a worth, 
just  as  fixed  and  real  as  the  specific  gravity  of  a substance, 
though  such  specific  gravity  may  not  be  easily  ascertainable 

was  possible  that  Mr.  Mill  should  have  followed  the  true  clue  so  far  as  to 
write, — “ No  limit  can  be  set  to  the  importance — even  in  a purely  productive 
and  material  point  of  view — of  mere  thought,”  without  seeing  that  it  was 
logically  necessary  to  add  also,  “ and  of  mere  feeling.”  And  this  the  more, 
because  in  his  first  definition  of  labour  he  includes  in  the  idea  of  it  “all 
feelings  of  a disagreeable  kind  connected  with  the  employment  of  one’s 
thoughts  in  a particular  occupation.”  True;  but  why  not  also,  “feelings 
of  an  agTeeable  kind  ?”  It  can  hardly  be  supposed  that  the  feehngs  which 
retard  labour  are  more  essentially  a part  of  the  labour  than  those  which 
accelerate  it.  The  first  are  paid  for  as  pain,  the  second  as  power.  The 
workman  is  merely  indemnified  for  the  first ; but  the  second  both  produce 
a part  of  the  exchangeable  value  of  the  work,  and  materially  increase  its 
actual  quantity. 

“Fritz  is  with  us.  He  is  worth  fifty  thousand  men.”  Truly,  a large 
addition  to  the  material  force ; — consisting,  however,  be  it  observed,  not 
more  in  operations  carried  on  in  Fritz’s  head,  than  in  operations  carried  on 
in  his  armies’  heart.  “No  limit  can  be  set  to  the  importance  of  mere 
thought.”  Perhaps  not!  Nay,  suppose  some  day  it  should  turn  out  that 
“ mere”  thought  was  in  itself  a recommendable  object  of  production,  and 
that  all  Material  production  was  only  a step  towards  this  more  precious 
Immaterial  one  ? 


78 


QUI  JUDICATIS  TEKRAM. 


when  the  substance  is  united  with  many  others.  Kor  is  there 
any  difficulty  or  cha.n.ee  in  determining  it  as  in  determining 
the  ordinary  maxima  and  minima  of  vulgar  political  economy. 
There  are  few  bargains  in  which  the  buyer  can  ascertain  with 
anything  like  precision  that  the  seller  would  have  taken  no 
less  or  the  seller  acquire  moi’e  than  a comfortable  faith  that 
the  purchaser  would  have  given  no  more.  This  impossibility 
of  precise  knowledge  prevents  neither  from  striving  to  attain 
the  desired  point  of  greatest  vexation  and  injury  to  the 
other,  nor  from  accepting  it  for  a scientific  principle  that  he  is 
to  buy  for  the  least  and  sell  for  the  most  possible,  though  what 
the  real  least  or  most  may  be  he  cannot  tell.  In  like  manner, 
a just  person  lays  it  down  for  a scientific  principle  that  he  is 
to  pay  a just  price,  and,  without  being  able  precisely  to 
ascertain  the  limits  of  such  a price,  will  nevertheless  strive  to 
attain  the  closest  possible  approximation  to  them,  A practi- 
cally serviceable  approve! mation  he  emi  obtain.  It  is  easier  to 
determine  scientifically  what  a man  ought  to  have  for  his 
work,  than  what  his  necessities  will  compel  him  to  take  for  it. 
His  necessities  can  only  be  ascertained  by  empirical,  but  his 
due  by  analytical  investigation.  In  the  one  case,  you  try  your 
answer  to  the  sum  like  a puzzled  schoolboy — till  you  find 
one  that  fits  ; in  the  other,  you  bring  out  your  result  within 
certain  limits,  by  process  of  calculation. 

Supposing,  then,  the  just  wages  of  any  quantity  of  given 


QUI  JUDICATIS  TERRAM. 


79 


labour  to  have  been  ascertained,  let  us  examine  the  first 
results  of  just  and  unjust  payment,  when  in  favour  of  the 
purchaser  or  employer ; i.  e.  when  two  men  are  ready  to 
do  the  work,  and  only  one  wants  to  have  it  done. 

The  unjust  purchaser  forces  the  two  to  bid  against  each 
other  till  he  has  reduced  their  demand  to  its  lowest  terms. 
Let  us  assume  that  the  lowest  bidder  offers  to  do  the  work 
at  half  its  just  price. 

The  purchaser  employs  him,  and  does  not  employ  the 
other.  The  first  or  apparent  result  is,  therefore,  that  one 
of  the  two  men  is  left  out  of  employ,  or  to  starvation,  just 
as  definitely  as  by  the  just  procedure  of  giving  fair  price 
to  the  best  workman.  The  various  writers  who  endeavoured 
to  invalidate  the  positions  of  my  first  paper  never  saw  this, 
and  assumed  that  the  unjust  hirer  employed  both.  He  employs 
both  no  more  than  the  just  hirer.  The  only  difference  (in 
the  outset)  is  that  the  just  man  pays  sufficiently,  the  unjust 
man  insufficiently,  for  the  labour  of  the  single  person  employed. 

I say,  “in  the  outset;”  for  this  first  or  apparent  differ- 
ence is  not  the  actual  difference.  By  the  unjust  procedure, 
half  the  proper  price  of  the  work  is  left  in  the  hands  of 
the  employer.  This  enables  him  to  hire  another  man  at 
the  same  unjust  rate,  on  some  other  kind  of  work;  and 
the  final  result  is  that  he  has  two  men  working  for  him  at 
half  price,  and  two  are  out  of  employ. 


80 


QUI  JUDICATIS  TERRAM. 


By  the  just  procedure,  the  whole  J>rice  of  the  first  piece 
of  work  goes  into  the  hands  of  the  man  who  does  it.  Xo 
surplus  being  left  in  the  employer’s  hands,  he  cannot  liii-e 
another  man  for  another  piece  of  labour.  But  by  precisely 
so  much  as  his  power  is  diminished,  the  hired  workman’s 
power  is  increased ; that  is  to  say,  by  the  additional  half 
of  the  price  he  has  received ; which  additional  half  he  has 
the  power  of  using  to  employ  another  man  in  his  service. 
I will  suppose,  for  the  moment,  the  least  favourable,  though 
quite  probable,  case — that,  though  justly  treated  himself, 
he  yet  will  act  unjustly  to  his  subordinate;  and  hire  at 
halfprice,  if  he  can.  The  final  result  will  then  be,  that  one 
man  works  for  the  employer,  at  just  price;  one  for  the 
workman,  at  half-price  ; and  two,  as  in  the  first  case,  are 
still  out  of  employ.  These  two,  as  I said  before,  are  out 
of  employ  in  both  cases.  The  difference  between  the  just 
and  unjust  procedure  does  not  lie  in  the  number  of  men 
hired,  but  in  the  price  paid  to  them,  and  the  persons  by 
whom  it  is  paid.  The  essential  difference,  that  which  I 
want  the  reader  to  see  clearly,  is,  that  in  the  unjust  case, 
two  men  work  for  one,  the  first  hirer.  In  the  just  case, 
one  man  works  for  the  first  hirer,  one  for  the  person  hired, 
and  so  on,  down  or  up  through  the  various  grades  of  ser- 
vice ; the  influence  being  carried  forward  by  justice,  and 
arrested  by  injustice.  The  universal  and  constant  action  of 


QUI  JUDICATIS  TERR  AM. 


81 


justice  in  this  matter  is  therefore  to  diminish  the  power 
of  wealth,  in  the  hands  of  one  individual,  over  masses  of 
men,  and  to  distribute  it  through  a chain  of  men.  The 
actual  power  exerted  by  the  wealth  is  the  same  in  both 
cases ; but  by  injustice  it  is  put  all  in  one  man’s  hands,  so 
that  he  directs  at  once  and  witli  equal  force  the  labour  of 
a circle  of  men  about  him ; by  the  just  procedure,  he  is 
permitted  to  touch  the  nearest  only,  through  whom,  with 
diminished  force,  modified  by  new  minds,  the  energy  of 
the.  wealth  passes  on  to  others,  and  so  till  it  exhausts 
itself. 

The  immediate  operation  of  justice  in  this  respect  is  there- 
fore to  diminish  the  power  of  wealth,  first  in  acquisition 
of  luxury,  and,  secondly,  in  exercise  of  moral  influence. 
The  employer  cannot  concentrate  so  multitudinous  labour 
on  his  own  interests,  nor  can  he  subdue  so  multitudinous 
mind  to  his  own  will.  But  the  secondary  operation  of 
justice  is  not  less  important.  The  insufficient  payment  of 
the  group  of  men  working  for  one,  places  each  under  a 
maximum  of  difficulty  in  rising  above  his  position.  The 
tendency  of  the  system  is  to  check  advancement.  But  the 
sufficient  or  just  payment,  distributed  through  a descending 
series  of  offices  or  grades  of  labour,*  gives  each  subordinated 

* I am  sorry  to  lose  time  by  answering,  however  curtly,  the  equivo* 

cations  of  the  writers  who  sought  to  obscure  the  instances  given  of 
4* 


82 


QFI  JUDICATIS  TEEEAM. 


person  fair  and  sufficient  means  of  rising  in  the  social  scale^ 
if  he  chooses  to  use  them ; and  thus  not  only  diminishes 
the  immediate  power  of  wealth,  but  removes  the  worst 
disabilities  of  poverty. 

It  is  on  this  vital  problem  that  the  entire  destiny  of  the 
labourer  is  ultimately  dependent.  Many  minor  interests 

regulated  labour  in  the  first  of  these  papers,  by  confusing  kinds,  ranks, 
and  quantities  of  labour  with  its  qualities.  I never  said  that  a colonel 
should  have  the  same  pay  as  a private,  nor  a bishop  the  same  pay  as  a 
curate.  Neither  did  I say  that  more  work  ought  to  be  paid  as  less 
work  (so  that  the  curate  of  a parish  of  two  thousand  souls  should  have 
no  more  than  the  curate  of  a parish  of  five  hundred).  But  I said  that, 
so  far  as  you  employ  it  at  all,  bad  work  should  be  paid  no  less  than 
good  work;  as  a bad  clergyman  yet  takes  his  tithes,  a bad  physician 
takes  his  fee,  and  a bad  lawyer  his  costs.  And  this,  as  will  be  farther 
shown  in  the  conclusion,  I said,  and  say,  partly  because  the  best  work 
never  was  nor  ever  will  be,  done  for  money  at  all;  but  chiefly  because, 
the  moment  people  know  they  have  to  pay  the  bad  and  good  alike, 
they  wUl  try  to  discern  the  one  from  the  other,  and  not  use  the  bad. 
A sagacious  writer  in  the  Scotsman  asks  me  if  I should  like  any  common 
scribbler  to  be  paid  by  Messrs.  Smith,  Elder  and  Co.  as  their  good 
authors  are.  I should,  if  they  employed  him — ^but  would  seriously  recom- 
mend them,  for  the  scribbler’s  sake,  as  well  as  their  own,  not  to  employ 
him.  The  quantity  of  its  money  which  the  country  at  present  invests  in 
scribbling  is  not,  in  the  outcome  of  it,  economically  spent ; and  even  the 
highly  ingenious  person  to  whom  this  question  occurred,  might  perhaps 
have  been  more  beneficially  employed  than  in  printing  it. 


QUI  JTDICATIS  TBREAM. 


83 


may  sometimes  appear  to  interfere  with  it,  but  all  branch 
from  it.  For  instance,  considerable  agitation  is  often  caused 
in  the  minds  of  the  lower  classes  when  they  discover  the 
share  which  they  nominally,  and,  to  all  appearance,  actually, 
pay  out  of  their  wages  in  taxation  (I  believe  thirty-five  or 
forty  per  cent.).  This  sounds  very  grievous ; but  in  reality 
the  labourer  does  not  pay  it,  but  his  emjDloyer.  If  the 
workman  had  not  to  pay  it,  his  wages  would  be  less  by 
just  that  sum:  competition  would  still  reduce  them  to  the 
lowest  rate  at  which  life  was  possible.  Similarly  the  lower 
orders  agitated  for  the  repeal  of  the  corn  laws,^  thinking 

* I have  to  acknowledge  an  interesting  communication  on  the  subject 
of  free  trade  from  Paisley  (for  a short  letter  from  “A  Well-wisher”  at 

, my  thanks  are  yet  more  due);  But  the  Scottish  writer  will,  I fear, 

be  disagreeably  surprised  to  hear,  that  I am,  and  always  have  been,  an 
utterly  fearless  and  unscrupulous  free-trader.  Seven  years  ago,  speaking 
of  the  various  signs  of  infancy  in  the  European  mind  (Stones  of  Venice, 
vol.  iii.  p.  168),  I wrote : “ The  first  principles  of  commerce  were  acknow- 
ledged by  the  English  parliament  only  a few  months  ago,  and  in  its  free- 
trade  measures,  and  are  stiU  so  httle  understood  by  the  million,  that  no 
nation  dares  to  dbolisk  its  custom-homes.'^ 

It  will  be  observed  that  I do  not  admit  even  the  idea  of  reciprocity. 
Let  other  nations,  if  they  like,  keep  their  ports  shut;  every  wise  nation 
will  throw  its  own  open.  It  is  not  the  opening  them,  but  a sudden, 
inconsiderate,  and  blunderingly  experimental  manner  of  opening  them, 
which  does  the  harm.  If  you  have  been  protecting  a manufacture  for 


84 


QUI  JUDICATIS  TERRAM. 


they  would  be  better  off  if  bread  were  cheaper ; never 
perceiving  that  as  soon  as  bread  was  permanently  cheaper, 
wages  would  permanently  fall  in  precisely  that  proportion. 
The  corn  laws  were  rightly  repealed  ; not,  however,  because 
they  directly  oppressed  the  poor,  but  because  they  indirectly 
oppressed  them  in  causing  a large  quantity  of  their  labour 
to  be  consumed  unproductively.  So  also  unnecessary  tax- 

long  series  of  years,  you  must  not  take  protection  off  in  a moment,  so 
as  to  throw  every  one  of  its  operatives  at  once  out  of  employ,  any  more 
than  you  must  take  all  its  wrappings  off  a feeble  child  at  once  in  cold 
weather,  though  the  cumber  of  them  may  have  been  radically  injuring 
its  health.  Little  by  little,  you  must  restore  it  to  freedom  and  to  air. 

Most  people’s  minds  are  in  curious  confusion  on  the  subject  of  free 
trade,  because  they  suppose  it  to  imply  enlarged  competition.  On  the 
contrary,  free  trade  puts  an  end  to  all  competition.  “ Protection  ” (among 
various  other  mischievous  functions)  endeavours  to  enable  one  country  to 
compete  with  another  in  the  production  of  an  article  at  a disadvantage* 
When  trade  is  entirely  free,  no  country  can  be  competed  with  in  the 
articles  for  the  production  of  which  it  is  naturally  calculated;  nor  can  it 
compete  with  any  other  in  the  production  of  articles  for  which  it  is  not 
naturally  calculated.  Tuscany,  for  instance,  cannot  compete  with  England 
in  steel,  nor  England  with  Tuscany  in  oil.  They  must  exchange  their 
steel  and  oil.  Which  exchange  should  be  as  frank  and  free  as  honesty 
and  the  sea-winds  can  make  it.  Competitien,  indeed,  arises  at  first,  and 
sharply,  in  order  to  prove  which  is  strongest  in  any  given  manufacture 
possible  to  both;  this  point  once  ascertained,  competition  is  at  an  end. 


QUI  JUDICATIS  TERR  AM. 


85 


fition  oppresses  them,  through  destruction  of  capital,  but 
the  destiny  of  the  poor  depends  primarily  always  on  this 
one  question  of  duencss  of  wages.  Their  distress  (irrespec- 
tively of  that  caused  by  sloth,  minor  error,  or  crime)  arises 
on  the  grand  scale  from  the  two  reacting  forces  of  com- 
petition and  oppression.  There  is  not  yet,  nor  will  yet  for 
ages  be,  any  real  over-population  in  the  world ; but  a local 
over-population,  or,  more  accurately,  a degree  of  population 
locally  unmanageable  under  existing  circumstances  for  want 
of  forethought  and  sufficient  machinery,  necessarily  shows 
itself  by  pressure  of  competition;  and  the  taking  advantage 
of  this  competition  by  the  purchaser  to  obtain  their  labour 
unjustly  cheap,  consummates  at  once  their  suffering  and  his 
own  ; for  in  this  (as  I believe  in  every  other  kind  of  slavery) 
the  oppressor  suffers  at  last  more  than  the  oppressed,  and 
those  magnificent  lines  of  Pope,  even  in  all  their  force, 
fall  short  of  the  truth — 

“ Yet,  to  be  just  to  these  poor  men  of  pelf, 

Each  does  but  hate  his  neighbour  as  himself; 

Damned  to  the  mines,  an  equal  fate  betides 
The  slave  that  digs  it,  and  the  slave  that  hides.” 

The  collateral  and  reversionary  operations  of  justice  in  this 
matter  I shall  examine  hereafter  (it  being  needful  first  to  define 
the  nature  of  value)  ; proceeding  then  to  consider  within 
what  practical  terms  a juster  system  may  be  established ; and 


QUI  JUDICATIS  TEKRAM. 


ultimately  the  vexed  question  of  the  destinies  of  the  unem- 
ployed workmen.*  liest,  however,  the  reader  should  be 
alarmed  at  some  of  the  issues  to  which  our  investigations 
seem  to  be  tending,  as  if  in  their  bearing  against  the  power  of 

* I should  he  glad  if  the  reader  would  first  clear  the  ground  for  himself 
so  far  as  to  determine  whether  the  difficulty  lies  in  getting  the  work  or 
getting  the  pay  for  it.  Does  he  consider  occupation  itself  to  be  an 
expensive  luxury,  difficult  of  attainment,  of  which  too  little  is  to  be  found 
in  the  world?  or  is  it  rather  that,  while  in  the  enjoyment  even  of  the  most 
athletic  delight,  men  must  nevertheless  be  maintained,  and  this  mainte- 
nance is  not  always  forthcoming?  We  must  be  clear  on  this  head  before 
going  farther,  as  most  people  are  loosely  in  the  habit  of  talking  of  the  diffi- 
culty of  “finding  employment.”  Is  it  employment  that  we  want  to  find,  or 
support  during  employment  ? Is  it  idleness  we  wish  to  put  an  end  to,  or 
hunger?  We  have  to  take  up  both  questions  in  succession,  only  not  both 
at  the  same  time.  No  doubt  that  work  is  a luxury,  and  a very  great  one. 
It  is,  indeed,  at  once  a luxury  and  a necessity ; no  man  can  retain  either 
health  of  mind  or  body  without  it.  So  profoundly  do  I feel  this,  that,  as 
will  be  seen  in  the  sequel,  one  of  the  principal  objects  I would  recommend 
to  benevolent  and  practical  persons,  is  to  induce  rich  people  to  seek  for  a 
larger  quantity  of  this  luxury  than  they  at  present  possess.  Nevertheless, 
it  appears  by  experience  that  even  this  healthiest  of  pleasures  may  be 
indulged  in  to  excess,  and  that  human  beings  are  just  as  liable  to  surfeit 
of  labour  as  to  surfeit  of  meat ; so  that,  as  on  the  one  hand,  it  may  be 
charitable  to  provide,  for  some  people,  lighter  dinner,  and  more  work, — for 
others  it  may  be  equally  expedient  to  provide  lighter  work,  and  more 
diimer. 


QUI  JUDICATIS  TEREAM. 


87 


wealth  they  had  something  in  common  with  those  of  social- 
ism, I wish  him  to  know,  in  accurate  terms,  one  or  two  of 
the  main  points  which  I have  in  view. 

Whether  socialism  has  made  more  progress  among  the 
army  and  navy  (where  payment  is  made  on  my  principles),  or 
among  the  manufacturing  operatives  (who  are  paid  on  my 
opponents’  principles),  I leave  it  to  those  opponents  to  ascer- 
tain and  declare.  Whatever  their  conclusion  may  be,  I think 
it  necessary  to  answer  for  myself  only  this  : that  if  there  be 
any  one  point  insisted  on  throughout  my  works  more  fre- 
quently than  another,  that  one  point  is  the  impossibility  of 
Equality.  My  continual  aim  has  been  to  show  the  eternal 
superiority  of  some  men  to  others,  sometimes  even  of  one 
man  to  all  others ; and  to  show  also  the  advisability  of 
appointing  such  persons  or  person  to  guide,  to  lead,  or  on 
occasion  even  to  compel  and  subdue,  their  inferiors,  according 
to  their  own  better  knowledge  and  wiser  will.  My  principles 
of  Political  Economy  were  all  involved  in  a single  phrase 
spoken  three  years  ago  at  Manchester:  “Soldiers  of  the 
Ploughshare  as  well  as  soldiers  of  the  Sword:”  and  they 
were  all  summed  in  a single  sentence  in  the  last  volume  of 
Modern  Painters — “ Government  and  co-operation  are  in  all 
things  the  Laws  of  Life ; Anarchy  and  competition  the  Laws 
of  Death.” 

And  with  respect  to  the  mode  in  which  these  general  prim 


88 


Qtn  JITDICATIS  TEEKAM. 


ciples  affect  the  secure  possession  of  property,  so  far  am  I 
from  invalidating  such  security,  that  the  whole  gist  of  these 
papers  will  be  found  ultimately  to  aim  at  an  extension  in  its 

m- 

range;  and  whereas  it  has  long  been  known  and  declared 
that  the  poor  have  no  right  to  the  property  of  the  rich,  I 
wish  it  also  to  be  known  and  declared  that  the  rich  have  no 
right  to  the  property  of  the  poor. 

But  that  the  working  of  the  system  which  I have  under- 
taken to  develop  would  in  many  ways  shorten  the  apparent 
and  direct,  though  not  the  unseen  and  collateral,  power,  both 
of  wealth,  as  the  Lady  of  Pleasure,  and  of  capital  as  the  Lord 
of  Toil,  I do  not  deny  : on  the  contrary,  I affirm  it  in  all  joy- 
fulness ; knowing  that  the  attraction  of  riches  is  already  too 
strong,  as  their  authority  . is  already  too  weighty,  for  the 
reason  of  mankind.  I said  in  my  last  paper  that  nothing  in 
history  had  ever  been  so  disgraceful  to  human  intellect  as  the 
acceptance  among  us  of  the  common  doctrines  of  political 
- economy  as  a science.  I have  many  grounds  for  saying  this, 
/ but  one  of  the  chief  may  be  given  in  few  words.  I know  no 
previous  instance  in  history  of  a nation’s  establishing  a system- 
atic disobedience  to  the  first  j^rinciples  of  its  professed  reli- 
gion. The  writings  which  we  (verbally)  esteem  as  divine, 
not  only  denounce  the  love  of  moneyas  the  source  of  all  evil, 
and  as  an  idolatry  abhorred  of  the  Deity,  but  declare  mammon 
seiwice  to  be  the  accurate  and  irreconcileable  opposite  of 


QUI  JUDICATIS  TERRA  M. 


89 


God’s  service  : and,  whenever  they  speak  of  riches  absolute, 
and  poverty  absolute,  declare  woe  to  the  rich,  and  blessing  to 
the  poor.  Whereupon  we  forthwith  investigate  a science  of 
becoming  rich,  as  the  shortest  road  to  national  prosperity. 

“ Tai  Cristian  dannera  I’Etiope, 

Quando  si  partirauno  i due  coUegi, 

L'uno  in  eterno  ricco,  e l’altro  inopb.” 


ESSAY  IV. 


AD  VALOREM. 

In  the  last  paper  we  saw  that  just  payment  of  labour 
consisted  in  a sum  of  money  which  would  approximately 
obtain  equivalent  labour  at  a future  time : we  have  now 
to  examine  the  means  of  obtaining  such  equivalence. 
Which  question  involves  the  definition  of  Value,  Wealth, 
Price,  and  Produce. 

None  of  these  terms  are  yet  defined  so  as  to  be  understood 
by  the  public.  But  the  last.  Produce,  which  one  might  have 
thought  the  clearest  of  all,  is,  in  use,  the  most  ambiguous; 
and  the  examination  of  the  kind  of  ambiguity  attendant 
on  its  present  employment  will  best  open  the  way  to  our 
work. 

In  his  chapter  on  Capital,*  Mr.  J.  S.  Mill  instances,  as 
a capitalist,  a hardware  manufacturer,  who,  having  intended 
to  spend  a certain  portion  of  the  proceeds  of  his  business 
in  buying  plate  and  jewels,  changes  his  mind,  and  “pays  it  as 

* Book  L chap.  iv.  s.  L To  save  space,  my  future  references  to  Mr.  Mill’s 
work  will  be  by  numerals  only,  as  in  this  instance,  I.  iv.  L Ed.  in  2 vols. 
8vo.  Parker,  1848. 


AD  VALOREM. 


91 


wages  to  additional  workpeople.”  The  effect  is  stated  by- 
Mr.  Mill  to  be,  that  “ more  food  is  appropriated  to  the  con- 
sumption of  productive  labourers.” 

Now,  I do  not  ask,  though,  had  I written  this  paragraph, 
it  would  surely  have  been  asked  of  me.  What  is  to  become 
of  the  silversmiths  ? If  they  are  truly  unproductive  persons, 
we  will  acquiesce  in  their  extinction.  And  though  in  another 
part  of  the  same  passage,  the  hardware  merchant  is  supposed 
also  to  dispense  with  a number  of  servants,  whose  “ food  is 
thus  set  free  for  productive  purposes,”  I do  not  inquire  what 
will  be  the  effect,  painful  or  otherwise,  upon  the  servants, 
of  this  emancipation  of  their  food.  But  I very  seriously 
inquire  why  ironware  is  produce,  and  silverware  is  not? 
That  the  merchant  consumes  the  one,  and  sells  the  other, 
certainly  does  not  constitute  the  difference,  unless  it  can  be 
shown  (whicli,  indeed,  I perceive  it  to  be  becoming  daily 
more  and  more  the  aim  of  tradesmen  to  show)  that  commo- 
dities are  made  to  be  sold,  and  not  to  be  consumed.  The 
merchant  is  an  agent  of  conveyance  to  the  consumer  in  one 
case,  and  is  himself  the  consumer  in  the  other:*  but  the 

* If  Mr.  Mill  had  wished  to  show  the  difference  in  result  between 
consumption  and  sale,  he  should  have  represented  the  hardware  merchant 
as  consuming  his  own  goods  instead  of  selling  them ; similarly,  the  silver 
merchant  as  consuming  his  own  goods  instead  of  selling  thein.  Had  he 
done  this,  he  woul(l  have  made  his  position  clearer,  though  less  tenable ; 


92 


AD  VALOEEM. 


labourers  are  in  either  case  equally  productive,  since  they 
have  produced  goods  to  the  same  value,  if  the  hardware  and 
the  plate  are  both  goods. 

And  what  distinction  separates  them  ? It  is  indeed  possible 
that  in  the  “comparative  estimate  of  the  moralist,”  with 
•which  Mr.  Mill  says  political  economy  has  nothing  to  do  (III. 
i.  2)  a steel  fork  might  appear  a more  substantial  production 
than  a silver  one : we  may  grant  also  that  knives,  no  less 
than  forks,  are  good  produce;  and  scythes  and  ploughshares 
serviceable  articles.  But,  how  of  bayonets  ? Supposing  the 
hardware  merchant  to  effect  large  sales  of  these^  by  help 
of  the  “setting  free”  of  the  food  of  his  servants  and  his 
silversmith,— is  he  still  employing  productive  labourers,  or,  in 
Mr.  Mill’s  words,  labourers  who  increase  “ the  stock  of  per- 
manent means  of  enjoyment”  (I.  iii.  4).  Or  if,  instead  of 
bayonets,  he  supply  bombs,  will  not' the  absolute  and  final 
“ enjoyment”  of  even  these  energetically  productive  articles 
(each  of  which  costs  ten  pounds*)  be  dependent  on  a proper 
and  perhaps  this  -was  the  position  he  really  intended  to  take,  tacitly 
involving  his  theory,  else'where  stated,  and  shown  in  the  sequel  of  this 
paper  to  he  false,  that  demand  for  commodities  is  not  demand  for  labour. 
But  by  the  most  diligent  scrutiny  of  the  paragraph  new  under  examination, 
I cannot  determine  "whether  it  is  a fallacy  pure  and  simple,  or  the  half  of  one 
fallacy  supported  by  the  whole  of  a greater  one ; so  that  I treat  it  here  on 
the  kinder  assumption  that  it  is  one  fallacy  only. 

♦ I take  Mr.  Helps’  estimate  in  his  essay  on  "War.  * 


AD  VALOREM. 


93 


choice  of  time  and  place  for  their  enfantement  ^ choice,  that 
is  to  say,  depending  on  those  philosophical  considerations 
with  which  political  economy  has  nothing  to  do  ? * 

I should  have  regretted  the  need  of  pointing  out  inconsis- 
tency in  any  portion  of  Mr.  Mill’s  work,  had  not  the  value  of 
his  work  proceeded  from  its  inconsistencies.  He  deserves 
honour  among  economists  by  inadvertently  disclaiming  the 
principles  which  he  states,  and  tacitly  introducing  the  moral 
considerations  wdth  which  he  declares  his  science  has^  no 
connection.  Many  of  his  chapters  are,  therefore,  true  and 
valuable ; and  the  only  conclusions  of  his  which  I have  to 
dispute  are  those  which  follow  from  his  premises. 

Thus,  the  idea  which  lies  at  the  root  of  the  passage  we  have 
just  been  examining,  namely,  that  labour  applied  to  produce 
luxuries  will  not  support  so  many  persons  as  labour  applied 
to  produce  useful  articles,  is  entirely  true ; but  the  instance 
given  fails — and  in  four  directions  of  failure  at  once — because 
Mr.  Mill  has  not  defined  the  real  meaning  of  usefulness. 

* Also  when  the  wrought  silver  vases  of  Spain  were  dashed  to 
fragments  by  our  custom-house  officers,  because  bullion  might  be  imported 
free  of  duty,  hut  not  brains,  was  the  axe  that  broke  them  productive  ? — 
the  artist  who  wrought  them  unproductive  ? Or  again.  If  the  woodman’s 
axe  is  productive,  is  the  executioner’s  ? as  also,  if  the  hemp  of  a cable  be 
productive,  does  not  the  productiveness  of  hemp  in  a halter  depend  on  its 
moral  more  than  on  its  material  application  ? 


m 


AD  VALOREM. 


The  definition  which  he  has  given — “capacity  to  satisfy  a 
desire,  or  serve  a purpose”  (III.  i.  2) — applies  equally  to 
the  iron  and  silver ; while  the  true  definition— which  he  has 
not  given,  but  which  nevertheless  underlies  the  false  verbal 
definition  in  his  mind,  and  comes  out  once  or  twice  by 
accident  (as  in  the  words  “ any  support  to  life  or  strength” 
in  I.  i.  5)^ — applies  to  some,  articles  of  iron,  but  not  to  others, 
and  to  some  articles  of  silver,  but  not  to  others.  Iv  applies  to 
ploughs,  but  not  to  bayonets ; and  to  forks,  but  nc^<^  to  filigree.* 

The  eliciting  of  the  true  definition  will  gW^  as  the  reply 
to  our  first  question,  “ What  is  value  ? ” re^pecting  which, 
however,  we  must  first  hear  the  popular  statements. 

“The  word  ‘value,’  when  used  without  adjunct,  always 
means,  in  political  economy,  value  in  exchange  ” (Mill,  III. 
i.  3).  So  that,  if  two  ships  cannot  exchange  their  rudderSj 
their  rudders  are,  in  politico-economic  language,  of  no  value 
to  either. 

But  “ the  subject  of  political  economy  is  wealth.” — (Pre- 
liminary remarks,  page  1.) 

And  wealth  “consists  of  all  useful  and  agreeable  objects 
which  possess  exchangeable  value.”— -(Preliminary  remarks, 
page  10.) 

It  appears,  then,  according  to  Mr.  Mill,  that  usefulness 

* Filigree : that  is  to  say,  generally,  ornament  dependent  on  complexity, 


not  on  art. 


AD  VALOREM. 


95 


and  agreeableness  underlie  the  exchange  value,  and  must 
be  ascertained  to  exist  in  the  thing,  before  we  can  esteem 
it  an  object  of  wealth. 

lN"ow,  the  economical  usefulness  of  a thing  depends  not 
merely  on  its  own  nature,  but  on  the  number  of  people 
who  can  and  will  use  it.  A horse  is  useless,  and  therefore 
imsaleable,  if  no  one  can  ride, — a sword  if  no  one  can 
strike,  and  meat,  if  no  one  can  eat.  Thus  every  material 
utility  depends  on  its  relative  human  capacity. 

Similarly : The  agreeableness  of  a thing  depends  not 
merely  on  its  own  likeableness,  but  on  the  number  of  people 
who  can  be  got  to  like  it.  The  relative  agreeableness,  and 
therefore  saleableness,  of  “a  pot  of  the  smallest  ale,”  and 
of  “ Adonis  painted  by  a running  brook,”  depends  virtually 
on  the  opinion  of  Demos,  in  the  shape  of  Christopher  Sly. 
That  is  to  say,  the  agreeableness  of  a thing  depends  on  its 
relative  human  disposition.*  Therefore,  political  economy, 

* These  statements  sound  crude  in  their  brevity;  but  will  be  found 
of  the  utmost  importance  when  they  are  developed.  Thus,  in  the  above 
instance,  economists  have  never  perceived  that  disposition  to  buy  is  a 
wholly  moral  element  in  demand:  that  is  to  say,  when  you  give  a man 
half-a-crown,  it  depends  on  his  disposition  whether  he  is  rich  or  poor 
with  it — ^whether  he  will  buy  disease,  ruin,  and  hatred,  or  buy  health, 
advancement,  and  domestic  love.  And  thus  the  agreeableness  or  exchange 
value  of  every  offered  commodity  depends  on  production,  not  merely  of 
the  commodity,  but  of  buyers  of  it ; therefore  on  the  education  of  buyers 


96 


AD  VALOEEM. 


being  a science  of  wealth,  must  be  a science  respecting 
human  capacities  and  dispositions.  But  moral  considera- 
tions have  nothing  to  do  with  political  economy  (III.  i.  2). 
^"herefore,  moral  considerations  have  nothing  to  do  with 
human  capacities  and  dispositions. 

I do  not  wholly  like  the  look  of  this  conclusion  from  Mr. 
Mill’s  statements : — ^let  us  try  Mr.  Ricardo’s. 

“ IJtility  is  not  the  measure  of  exchangeable  value,  though 
it  is  absolutely  essential  to  it.” — (Chap.  I.  sect.  i. ) Essen- 
tial in  what  degree,  Mr.  Ricardo?  There  may  be  greater 
and  less  degrees  of  utility.  Meat,  for  instance,  may  be  so 
good  as  to  be  fit  for  any  one  to  eat,  or  so  bad  as  to  be 
fit  for  no  one  to  eat.  What  is  the  exact  degree  of  good- 
ness which  is  “essential”  to  its  exchangeable  value,  but 
not  “ the  measure  ” of  it  ? How  good  must  the  meat  be, 
in  order  to  possess  any  exchangeable  value ; and  how  bad 
must  it  be — (I  wish  this  were  a settled  question  in  London 
marketuj — in  order  to  possess  none? 

and  on  all  the  moral  elements  by  which  their  disposition  to  buy  this,  or 
that,  is  formed.  I will  illustrate  and  expand  into  final  consequences 
every  one  of  these  definitions  in  its  place:  at  present  they  can  only  be 
given  with  extremest  brevity;  for  in  order  to  put  the  subject  at  once  in 
a connected  form  before  the  reader,  I have  thrown  into  one,  the  open- 
ing definitions  of  four  chapters;  namely,  of  that  on  Yalue  (“Ad  Valorem”) , 
on  Price  ( “Thirty  Pieces”);  on  Production  (“Demeter”);  and  on  Economy 
(“The  Law  of  the  House”). 


AD  VALOREM. 


91 


There  appears  to  be  some  hitch,  I think,  in  the  working 
even  of  Mr.  Ricardo’s  principles ; but  let  him  take  his  own 
example.  “ Suppose  that  in  the  early  stages  of  society  the 
bows  and  arrows  of  the  hunter  were  of  equal  value  with 
the  implements  of  the  fisherman.  Under  such  circumstances 
the  value  of  the  deer,  the  produce  of  the  hunter’s  day’s 
labour,  would  be  exactly'''’  (italics  mine)  “equal  to  the  value 
of  the  fish,  the  product  of  the  fisherman’s  day’s  labour. 
The  comparative  value  of  the  fish  and  game  would  be 
entirely  regulated  by  the  quantity  of  labour  realized  in  each.” 
(Ricardo,  chap.  iii.  On  Yalue.) 

Indeed!  Therefore,  if  the  fisherman  catches  one  sprat, 
and  the  huntsman  one  deer,  one  sprat  will  be  equal  in 
value  to  one  deer;  but  if  the  fisherman  catches  no  sprat, 
and  the  huntsman  two  deer,  no  sprat  will  be  equal  in  value 
to  two  deer  ? 

Nay  ; but — Mr.  Ricardo’s  supporters  may  say — he  means, 
on  an  average ; — if  the  average  product  of  a day’s  work  of 
fisher  and  hunter  be  one  fish  and  one  deer,  the  one  fish 
will  always  be  equal  in  value  to  the  one  deer. 

Might  I inquire  the  species  of  fish.  Whale  ? or  white- 
bait ? ^ 

* Perhaps  it  may  be  said,  in  farther  support  of  Mr.  Ricardo,  that  he, 
meant,  “when  the  utility  is  constant  or  given,  the  price  varies  as  the 

quantity  of  labour.”  If  he  meant  this,  he  should  have  said  it;  but,  had 
5 


98 


AD  VALOREM. 


It  would  be  waste  of  time  to  pursue  these  fallacies  far- 
ther ; we  will  seek  for  a true  definition. 

Much  store  has  been  set  for  centuries  upon  the  use  of 

he  meant  it,  he  could  have  hardly  missed  the  necessary  result,  that 
utility  would  be  one  measure  of  price  (which  he  expressly  denies  it  to 
bo);  and  that,  to  prove  saleableness,  he  had  to  prove  a given  quantity 
of  utility,  as  well  as  a given  quantity  of  labour ; to  “wit,  in  his  own 
instance,  that  the  deer  and  fish  would  each  feed  the  same  number  of 
men,  for  the  same  number  of  days,  with  equal  pleasure  to  their  palates. 
The  fact  is,  he  did  not  know  what  he  meant  himself.  The  general  idea 
which  he  had  derived  from  commercial  experience,  without  bei^  able 
to  analyse  it,  was,  that  when  the  demand  is  constant,  the  price  varies 
as  the  quantity  of  labour  required  for  production ; or, — ^using  the  formula 
I gave  in  last  paper — ^when  y is  constant,  x y varies  as  x.  But  demand 
never  is,  nor  can  be,  ultimately  constant,  if  x varies  distinctly;  for,  as 
price  rises,  consumers  fall  away;  and  as  soon  as  there  is  a monopoly 
(and  aU  scarcity  is  a form  of  monopoly;  so  that  every  commodity  is 
affected  occasionally  by  some  colour  of  monopoly),  y becomes  the  most 
influential  condition  of  the  price.  Thus  the  price  of  a painting  depends 
less  on  its  merits  than  on  the  interest  taken  in  it  by  the  public;  the 
price  of  singing  less  on  the  labour  of  the  singer  than  the  number  of 
persons  who  desire  to  hear  him;  and  the  price  of  gold  less  on  the 
scarcity  which  affects  it  in  common  with  cerium  or  iridium,  than  on  the 
suu-light  colour  and  unalterable  purity  by  which  it  attracts  the  admi- 
ration and  answers  the  trusts  of  mankind. 

It  must  be  kept  in  mind,  however,  that  I use  the  word  “ demand  ” in 
a somewhat  different  sense  from  economists  usually.  . They  mean  by  it 


AD  VALOREM. 


99 


our  English  classical  education.  It  were  to  be  wished  that 
our  well-educated  merchants  recalled  to  mind  always  this 
much  of  their  Latin  schooling, — that  the  nominative  of 
valorem  (a  word  already  sufficiently  familiar  to  them)  is 
valor ; a word  which,  therefore,  ought  to  be  familiar  to 
them.  Yalor^  from  valere^  to  be  well,  or  strong  (uyjaivw) ; 
— strong,  in  life  (if  a man),  or  valiant ; strong,  for  life  (if 
a thing),  or  valuable.  To  be  ^‘valuable,”  therefore,  is  to 
“ avail  towards  life.”  A truly  valuable  or  availing  thing  is 
that  which  leads  to  life  with  its  whole  strength.  In  pro 
portion  as  it  does  not  lead  to  life,  or  as  its  strength  is 
broken,  it  is  less  valuable ; in  proportion  as  it  leads  away 
from  life,  it  is  unvaluable  or  malignant. 

The  value  of  a thing,  ther-efore,  is  independent  of  opinion, 
and  of  quantity.  Think  what  you  will  of  it,  gain  how 

“the  quantity  of  a thing  sold.”  I mean  by  it  “the  force  of  the  buyer’s 
capable  intention  to  buy.”  In  good  English,  a person’s  “demand”  sig' 
nifies,  not  what  he  gets,  but  what  he  asks  for. 

Economists  also  do  not  notice  that  objects  are  not  valued  by  absolute 
bulk  or  weight,  but  by  such  bulk  and  weight  as  is  necessary  to  bring 
them  into  use.  They  say,  for  instance,  that  water  bears  no  price  in  the 
market.  It  is  true  that  a cupful  does  not,  but  a lake  does;  just  as  a 
handful  of  dust  does  not,  but  an  acre  does.  And  were  it  possible  to 
make  even  the  possession  of  the  cupful  or  handful  permanent,  (i  e. 
to  find  a place  for  them, ) the  earth  and  sea  would  be  bought  up  by 
handfuls  and  cupfuls. 


100 


AD  VALOREM. 


mucli  you  may  of  it,  the  value  of  the  thing  itself  is  neither 
greater  nor  less.  For  ever  it  avails,  or  avails  not;  no  esti- 
mate can  raise,  no  disdain  depress,  the  power  which  it  holds 
from  the  Maker  of  things  and  of  men. 

The  real  science  of  political  economy,  which  has  yet  to  be 
distinguished  from  the  bastard  science,  as  medicine  from 
witchcraft,  and  astronomy  from  astrology,  is  that  which 
teaches  nations  to  desire  and  labour  for  the  things  that  lead  to 
life ; and  which  teaches  them  to  scorn  and  destroy  the  things 
that  lead  to  destruction.  And  if,  in  a state  of  infancy,  they 
suppose  indifferent  things,  such  as  excrescences  of  shell-fish, 
and  pieces  of  blue  and  red  stone,  to  be  valuable,  and  spend 
large  measure  of  the  labour  which  ought  to  be  employed  for 
the  extension  and  ennobling  of  life,  in  diving  or  digging  for 
them,  and  cutting  them  into  various  shapes,— or  if,  in  the  same 
state  of  infancy,  they  imagine  precious  and  beneficent  things, 
such  as  air,  light,  and  cleanliness,"  to  be  valueless, — or  if, 
finally,  they  imagine  the  conditions  of  their  own  existence,  by 
which  alone  they  can  truly  possess  or  use  anything,  such,  for 
instance,  as  peace,  trust,  and  love,  to  be  prudently  exchange- 
able,  when  the  market  offers,  for  gold,  iron,  or  excrescences  of 
shells — ^the  great  and  only  science  of  Political  Economy  teaches 
them,  in  all  these  cases,  what  is  vanity,  and  what  substance  ; 
and  how  the  service  of  Death,  the  Lord  of  Waste,  and  of  eter- 
nal emptiness,  differs  from  the  service  of  Wisdom,  the  Lady  of 


AD  VALOREM. 


101 


Saving,  and  of  eternal  fulness ; she  who  has  said,  “ I will  cause 
those  that  love  me  to  inherit  Substance  ; and  I will  Fill 
their  treasures.” 

The  “ Lady  of  Saving,”  in  a profounder  sense  than  that 
of  the  savings’  bank,  though  that  is  a good  one  : Madonna 
della  Salute, — Lady  of  Health — which,  though  commonly 
spoken  of  as  if  separate  from  wealth,  is  indeed  a part  of 
wealth.  This  word,  wealth,”  it  will  be  remembered,  is  the 
next  we  have  to  define. 

“ To  be  wealthy,”  says  Mr.  Mill,  is  “ to  have  a large  stock 
of  useful  articles.” 

I accept  this  definition.  Only  let  us  perfectly  understand 
it.  My  opponents  often  lament  my  not  giving  them  enough 
logic : I fear  I must  at  present  use  a little  more  than  they  will 
like;  but  this  business  of  Political  Economy  is  no  light  one, 
and  we  must  allow  no  loose  terms  in  it. 

We  have,  therefore,  to  ascertain  in  the  above  definition,  first, 
what  is  the  meaning  of  “having,”  or  the  nature  of  Possession. 
Then  what  is  the  meaning  of  “ useful,”  or  the  nature  of  Utility. 

And  first  of  possession.  At  the  crossing  of  the  transepts 
of  Milan  Cathedral  has  lain,  for  three  hundred  years,  the 
embalmed  body  of  St.  Carlo  Borromeo.  It  holds  a golden 
crosier,  and  has  a cross  of  emeralds  on  its  breast.  Admitting 
the  crosier  and  emeralds  to  be  useful  articles,  is  the  body  to  be 
considered  as  “ having”  them  ? Do  they,  in  the  politico* 


102 


AD  VALOREM. 


economical  sense  of  property,  belong  to  it  ? If  not,  and  if  ^\'0 
may,  therefore,  conclude  generally  that  a dead  body  cannot 
possess  property,  what  degree  and  period  of  animation  in  the 
body  will  render  possession  possible  ? 

As  thus : lately  in  a wreck  of  a Californian  ship,  one  of  the 
passengers  fastened  a belt  about  him  with  two  hundred 
pounds  of  gold  in  it,  with  which  he  was  found  afterwards  at 
the  bottom.  Now,  as  he  was  sinking — had  he  the  gold  ? or 
had  the  gold  him  ?* 

And  if,  instead  of  sinking  him  in  the  sea  by  its  weight,  the 
gold  had  struck  him  on  the  forehead,  and  thereby  caused 
incurable  disease — suppose  palsy  or  insanity, — would  the 
gold  in  that  case  have  been  more  a “ possession”  than  in  the 
first?  Without  pressing  the  inquiry  up  through  instances  of 
gradual  increasing  vital  power  over  the  gold  (which  I will, 
however,  give,  if  they  are  asked  for),  I presume  the  reader 
will  see  that  possession,  or  “ having,”  is  not  an  absolute,  but 
a gradated,  power ; and  consists  not  only  in  the  quantity  or 
nature  of  the  thing  possessed,  but  also  (and  in  a greater  de- 
gree) in  its  suitableness  to  the  person  possessing  it,  alnd  in  his 
vital  power  to  use  it. 

And  our  definition  of  Wealth,  expanded,  becomes:  “The 
possession  of  useful  articles,  which  we  can  useP  This  is  a 
very  serious  change.  For  wealth,  instead  of  depending 
* Compare  George  Herbert,  The  Church  Porc\  Stanza  28. 


AD  VALOREM. 


103 


merely  on  a “ have,”  is  thus  seen  to  depend  on  a “ can.” 
Gladiator’s  death,  on  a “ habet ; ” but  soldier’s  victory,  and 
state’s  salvation,  on  a “ quo  pluriraum  posset.”  (Liv.  VII. 
6.)  And  what  we  reasoned  of  only  as  accumulation  of 
material,  is  seen  to  demand  also  accumulation  of  capacity. 

So  much  for  our  verb.  Next  for  our  adjective.  What 
is  the  meaning'  of  “ useful  ?” 

The  inquiry  is  closely  connected  with  the  last.  For 
what  is  capable  of  use  in  the  hands  of  some  persons,  is 
capable,  in  the  hands  of  others,  of  the  opposite  of  use, 
called  commonly,  ‘*from-use  or  ab  use.”  And  it  depends 
on  the  person,  much  more  than  on  the  article,  w^hether  its 
usefulness  or  ab-usefulness  will  be  the  quality  developed  in 
it.  Thus,  wine,  which  the  Greeks,  in  their  Bacchus,  made, 
rightly,  the  type  of  all  passion,  and  which,  when  used, 
t‘cheereth  god  and  man”  (that  is  to  say,  strengthens  both 
the  divine  life,  or  reasoning  power,  and  the  earthly,  or 
carnal  power,  of  man) ; yet,  when  abused,  becomes  “ Dio- 
nusos,”  hurtful  especially  to  the  divine  part  of  man,  or 
reason.  And  again,  the  body  itself,  being  equally  liable  to 
use  and  to  abuse,  and,  when  rightly  disciplined,  serviceable 
to  the  State,  both  for  war  and  labour ; — but  when  not  dis- 
ciplined, or  abused,  valueless  to  the  State,  and  capable 
only  of  continuing  the  private  or  single  existence  of  the 
individual  (and  that  but  feebly) — the  Greeks  called  such 


104 


AD  valorem:. 


a body  an  “idiotic”  or  “private”  body,  from  their 
word  signifying  a person  employed  in  no  way  directly  ’ 
useful  to  the  State;  whence,  finally,  our  “idiot,”  mean-j 
ing  a person  entirely  occupied  with  his  own  concerns. 

Hence,  it  follows,  that  if  a thing  is  to  be  useful,  it 
must  be  not  only  of  an  availing  nature,  but  in  availing 
hands.  Or,  in  accurate  terms,  usefulness  is  value  in  the 
hands  of  the  valiant;  so  that  this  science  of  wealth  being, 
as  we  have  just  seen,  when  regarded  as  the  science  -of 
Accumulation,  accurnulative  of  capacity  as  well  as  of  mate- 
rial,— when  regarded  as  the  Science  of  Distribution,  is 
distribution  not  absolute,  but  discriminate ; not  of  every 
thing  to  every  man,  but  of  the  right  thing  to  the  right 
man.  A difficult  science,  dependent  on  more  than  arithmetic. 

Wealth,  therefore,  is  “the  POSSESSioif  of  the  valuable 
BY  THE  VALIANT ; ” and  in  considering  it  as  a power  exist- 
ing in  a nation,  the  two  elements,  the  value  of  the  thing, 
and  the  valour  of  its  possessor,  must  be  estimated  together. 
Whence  it  appears  that  many  of  the  persons  commonly  con- 
sidered wealthy,  are  in  reality  no  more  wealthy  than  the 
locks  of  their  own  strong  boxes  are  ; they  being  inherently 
and  eternally  incapable  of  wealth ; and  operating  for  the 
nation,  in  an  economical  point  of  view,  either  as  pools  of 
dead  water,  and  eddies  in  a stream  (which,  so  long  as  the 
stream  flows,  are  useless,  or  serve  only  to  drown  people, 


AD  VALOREM. 


105 


but  may  become  of  importance  in  a state  of  stagnation, 
should  the  stream  dry)  ; or  else,  as  dams  in  a river,  of 
which  the  ultimate  service  depends  not  on  the  dam,  but 
the  miller;  or  else,  as  mere  accidental  stays  and  impedi* 
ments,  acting,  not  as  wealth,  but  (for  we  ought  to  have  a 
correspondent  term)  as  “illth,”  causing  various  devastation 
and  trouble  around  them  in  all  directions;  or  lastly,  act 
not  at  all,  but  are  merely  animated  conditions  of  delay,  (no 
use  being  possible  of  anything  they  have  until  they  are 
dead,)  in  which  last  condition  they  are  nevertheless  often 
useful  as  delays,  and  “ impedimenta,”  if  a nation  is  apt  to 
move  too  fast. 

This  being  so,  the  difficulty  of  the  true  science  of  Political 
Economy  lies  not  merely  in.  the  need  of  developing  manly 
character  to  deal  with  material  value,  but  in  the  fact,  that 
while  the  manly  character  and  material  value  only  form  wealth 
by  their  conjunction,  they  have  nevertheless  a mutually 
destructive  operation  on  each  other.  For  the  manly  character 
is  apt  to  ignore,  or  even  cast  away,  the  material  value: 
— whence  that  of  Pope  : — 

“ Sure,  of  qualities  demanding  praise 

More  go  to  ruin  fortunes,  than  to  raise,” 

And  on  the  other  hand,  the  material  value  is  apt  to  undermine 

the  manly  character  ; so  that  it  must  be  our  work,  in  the  issue, 
5* 


106 


AD  VALOEEM. 


to  examine  what  evidence  there  is  of  the  effect  of  wealth  on 
the  minds  of  its  possessors ; also,  what  kind  of  person  it  is 
who  usually  sets  himself  to  obtain  wealth,  and  succeeds  in 
doing  so ; and  whether  the  world  owes  more  gratitude  to 
rich  or  to  poor  men,  either  for  their  moral  influence  upon 
it,  or  for  chief  goods,  discoveries,  and  practical  advance- 
ments. I may,  however,  anticipate  future  conclusion  so  far 
as  to  state  that  in  a community  regulated  only  by  laws  of 
demand  and  supply,  and  protected  from  open  violence, 
the  persons  who  become  rich  are,  generally  speaking,  indus- 
trious, resolute,  proud,  covetous,  prompt,  methodical,  sensible, 
unimaginative,  insensitive,  and  ignorant.  The  persons  who 
remain  poor  are  the  entirely  foolish,  the  entirely  wise,*  the 
idle,  the  reckless,  the  humble,  the  thoughtful,  the  dull,  the 
imaginative,  the  sensitive,  the  well-informed,  the  improvident, 
the  irregularly  and  impulsively  wicked,  the  clumsy  knave,  the 
open  thief,  and  the  entirely  merciful,  just,  and  godly  person. 

Thus  far  then  of  wealth.  Next,  we  have  to  ascertain  the 
nature  of  Peice  ; that  is  to  say,  of  exchange  value,  and  its 
expression  by  currencies. 

Note  first,  of  exchange,  there  can  be  no  profit  in  it.  It  is 
only  in  labour  there  can  be  profit — that  is  to  say  a “making 

* “ 6 ZeOj  6fino\3  nivETaiy — Arist.  Plut.  582.  It  would  but  weaken  the 
grand  words  to  lean  on  the  preceding  ones: — “ort  too  IIXoo-oo  naip£x<it 

(isXriovaSf  aj'Jpaj,  koI  Tt\v  yv^piiv,  Kai  Ttjv  ihsav,*^ 


AD  VALOEEM. 


107 


in  advance,”  or  “making  in  favour  of”  (from  proficio).  In 
exchange,  there  is  only  advantage,  i.e.  a bringing  of  vantage 
or  power  to  the  exchanging  persons.  Thus,  one  man,  by 
sowing  and  reaping,  turns  one  measure  of  corn  into  two 
measures.  That  is  Profit.  Another  by  digging  and  forging, 
turns  one  spade  into  two  spades.  That  is  Profit.  But  the 
man  who  has  two  measures  of  com  wants  sometimes  to  dig ; 
and  the  man  who  has  two  spades  wants  sometimes  to  eat : — 
They  exchange  the  gained  grain  for  the  gained  tool ; and 
both  are  the  better  for  the  exchange ; but  though  there  is 
much  advantage  in  the  transaction,  there  is  no  profit. 
Nothing  is  constructed  or  produced.  Only  that  which  had 
been  before  constructed  is  given  to  the  person  by  whom  it 
can  be  used.  If  labour  is  necessary  to  efiect  the  exchange, 
that  labour  is  in  reality  involved  in  the  production,  and,  like 
all  other  labour,  bears  profit.  Whatever  number  of  men  are 
concerned  in  the  manufacture,  or  in  the  conveyance,  have 
share  in  the  profit ; but  neither  the  manufacture  nor  the  con- 
veyance are  the  exchange,  and  in  the  exchange  itself  there  is 
no  profit. 

There  may,  however,  be  acquisition,  which  is  a very  differ- 
ent thing.  If,  in  the  exchange,  one  man  is  able  to  give  what 
cost  him  little  labour  for  what  has  cost  the  other  much,  he 
“ acquires”  a certain  quantity  of  the  produce  of  the  other’s 
labour.  And  precisely  what  he  acquires,  the  other  loses.  In 


108 


AD  VALOREM. 


mercantile  language,  the  person  who  thus  acquires  is  coW 
monly  said  to  have  “ made  a profit and  I believe  that 
many  of  our  merchants  are  seriously  under  the  impression 
that  it  is  possible  for  everybody,  somehow,  to  make  a profit 
in  thiii^ manner.  Whereas,  by  the  unfortunate  constitution 
of  the  world  we  live  in,  the  laws  both  of  matter  and  motion 
have  quite  rigorously  forbidden  universal  acquisition  of  this 
kind.  Profit,  or  material  gain,  is  attainable  only  by  construc- 
tion or  by  discovery ; not  by  exchange.  Whenever  material 
gain  follows  exchange,  for  every  plus  there  is-  a precisely 
equal  minus. 

Unhappily  for  the  progress  of  the  science  of  Political 
Economy,  the  plus  quantities,  or, — if  I may  be  allowed  to 
coin  an  awkward  plural — the  pluses,  make  a very  positive 
and  venerable  appearance  in  the  world,  so  that  every  one  is 
eager  to  learn  the  science  which  produces  results  so  magnifi- 
cent ; whereas  the  minuses  have,  on  the  other  hand,  a 
tendency  to  retire  into  back  streets,  and  other  places  of  shade, 
— or  even  to  get  themselves  wholly  and  finally  put  out  of 
sight  in  graves:  which  renders  the  algebra  of  this  science 
peculiar,  and  difficultly  legible  : a large  number  of  its  negative 
signs  being  written  by  the  account-keeper  in  a kind  of  red 
ink,  which  starvation  thins,  and  makes  strangely  pale,  or  even 
«piite  invisible  ink,  for  the  present. 

The  Science  of  Exchange,  or,  as  I hear  it  has  been  proposed 


AD  VALOREM. 


109 


to  call  it,  of  “ Catallactics, ” considered  as  one  of  gain,  is, 
therefore,  simply  nugatory ; but  considered  as  one  of  acqui- 
sition, it  is  a very  curious  science,  differing  in  its  data  and 
basis  from  every  other  science  known.  Thus:— If  I can  ex- 
change a needle  with  a savage  for  a diamond,  my  power  of 
doing  so  depends  either  on  the  savage’s  ignorance  of  social 
arrangements  in  Europe,  or  on  his  want  of  power  to  take 
advantage  of  them,  by  selling  the  diamond  to  any  one  else  for 
more  needles.  If,  farther,  I make  the  bargain  as  completely 
advantageous  to  myself  as  possible,  by  giving  to  the  savage 
a needle  with  no  eye  in  it  (reaching,  thus,  a sufficiently  satis- 
factory type  of  the  perfect  operation  of  catallactic  science), 
the  advantage  to  me  in  the  entire  transaction  depends  wholly 
upon  the  ignorance,  powerlessness,  or  heedlessness  of  the 
l}ersori  dealt  with.  Do  away  with  these,  and  catallactic 
advantage  becomes  impossible.  So  far,  therefore,  as  the 
science  of  exchange  relates  to  the  advantage  of  one  of 
the  exchanging  persons  only,  it  is  founded  on  the  igno- 
rance or  incapacity  of  the  opposite  person.  Where  these 
vanish,  it  also  vanishes.  It  is  therefore  a science  founded 
on  nescience,  and  an  art  founded  on  artlessness.  But  all 
other  sciences  and  arts,  except  this,  have  for  their  object 
the  doing  away  with  their  opposite  nescience  and  artlessness. 
This  science,  alone  of  sciences,  must,  by  all  available 
means,  promulgate  and  prolong  its  opposite  nescience  ; 


110 


AD  VALOREM. 


Otherwise  the  science  itself  is  impossible.  It  is,  therefore, 
peculiarly  and  alone,  the  science  of  darkness ; probably 
a bastard  science^not  by  any  means  a divina  scientia^  but 
one  begotten  of  another  father,  that  father  who,  advising 
his  children  to  turn  stones  into  bread,  is  himself  employed 
in  turning  bread  into  stones,  and  who,  if  you  ask  a fish 
of  him  (fish  not  being  producible  on  his  estate),  can  but 
give  you  a serpent. 

The  general  law,  then,  respecting  just  or  economical 
exchange,  is  simply  this  : — There  must  be  advantage  on 
both  sides  (or  if  only  advantage  on  one,  at  least  no  disad- 
vantage on  the  other)  to  the  persons  exchanging;  and  just 
payment  for  his  time,  intelligence,  and  labour,  to  any  inter- 
mediate person  effecting  the  transaction  (commonly  called 
a merchant):  and  whatever  advantage  there  is  on  either 
side,  and  whatever  pay  is  given  to  the  intermediate  person, 
should  be  thoroughly  known  to  all  concerned.  AU  attempt 
at  concealment  implies  some  practice  of  the  opposite,  or 
uudivine  science,  founded  on  nescience.  Whence  another 
saying  of  the  Jew  merchant’s — “ As  a nail  between  the 
stone  joints,  so  doth  sin  stick  fast  between  buying  and 
selling.”  Which  peculiar  riveting  of  stone  and  timber,  in 
men’s  dealings  with  each  other,  is  again  set  forth  in  the 
house  which  was  to  be  destroyed — timber  and  stones  together 
— when  Zechariah’s  roll  (more  probably  “curved  sword”) 


AD  VALOREM. 


Ill 


flew  over  it : “ the  curse  that  goeth  forth  over  all  the  earth 
upon  every  one  that  stealeth  and  holdeth  himself  guiltless,” 
instantly  followed  by  the  vision  of  the  Great  Measure  ; — the 
measure  “ of  the  inj  ustice  of  them  in  all  the  earth”  (oLvrri  ^ 
dSixlot  auTwv  Iv  Tfi  with  the  weight  of  lead  for  its  lid, 
and  the  woman,  the  spirit  of  wickedness,  within  it; — that 
is  to  say.  Wickedness  hidden  by  Dulness,  and  formalized, 
outwardly,  into  ponderously  established  cruelty.  “It  shall 
be  set  upon  its  own  base  in  the  land  of  Babel.”  * 

I have  hitherto  carefully  restricted  myself,  in  speaking 
of  exchange,  to  the  use  of  the  term  “ advantage  ; ” but  that 
term  includes  two  ideas ; the  advantage,  namely,  of  getting 
what  we  7ieecl,  and  that  of  getting  what  we  wish  for. 
Three-fourths  of  the  demands  existing  in  the  world  are 
romantic ; founded  on  visions,  idealisms,  hopes,  and  afiec- 
tions;  and  the  regulation  of  the  purse  is,  in  its  essence, 
regulation  of  the  imagination  and  the  ^heart.  Hence,  the 
rig] it  discussion  of  the  nature  of  price  is  a very  high 
metaphysical  and  physical  problem;  sometimes  to  be  solved 
only  in  a passionate  manner,  as  by  David  in  his  counting 
the  price  of  the  water  of  the  well  by  the  gate  of  Bethlehem ; 
but  its  first  conditions  are  the  following : — The  pric^e  of 
anything  is  the  quantity  of  labour  given  by  the  person 
desiring  it,  in  order  to  obtain  possession  of  it.  This  price 
* Zeclu  V . 11.  See  note  on  the  passage,  at  page  120. 


112 


AD  VALOREM. 


depends  on  four  variable  quantities.  A.  The  quantity  of 
wish  the  purchaser  has  for  the  thing;  opposed  to  a,  the 
quantity  of  wish  the  seller  has  to  keep  it.  -5.  The  quan- 
tity of  labour  the  purchaser  can  afford,  to  obtain  the  thing ; 
opposed  to  /3,  the  quantity  of  labour  the  seller  can  afford, 
to  keep  it.  These  quantities  are  operative  only  in  excess  ; 

e.  the  quantity  of  wish  (A)  means  the  quantity  of  wish 
for  this  thing,  above  wish  for  other  things;  and  the  quan- 
tity of  woi’k  (i?)  means  the  quantity  which  can  be  spared 
to  get  this  thing  from  the  quantity  needed  to  get  other 
things. 

Phenomena  of  price,  therefore,  are  intensely  complex, 
curious,  and  interesting — too  complex,  however,  to  be 
examined  yet ; every  one  of  them,  when  traced  far  enough, 
showing  itself  at  last  as  a part  of  the  bargain  of  the  Poor 
of  the  Flock  (or  “flock  of  slaughter”),  “If  ye  think  good 
give  4ie  my  price,  ^nd  if  not,  forbear” — Zech.  xi.  12;  but 
as  the  price  of  everything  is  to  be  calculated  finally 
in  labour,  it  is  necessary  to  define  the  nature  of  that  stand- 
ard. 

Labour  is  the  contest  of  the  life  of  man  with  an  opposite ; 
— the  term  “ life  ” including  his  intellect,  soul,  and  physical 
power,  contending  with  question,  difficulty,  trial,  or  material 
force. 

Labour  is  of  a higher  or  lower  order,  as  it  includes 


AD  VALOEEM. 


113 


more  or  fewer  of  the  elements  of  life : and  labour  of  good 
quality,  in  any  kind,  includes  always  as  much  intellect  and 
feeling  as  will  fully  and  harmoniously  regulate  the  physical 
force. 

In  speaking  of  the  value  and  price  of  labour,  it  is  neces- 
sary always  to  understand  labour  of  a given  rank  and 
quality,  as  we  should  speak  of  gold  or  silver  of  a given 
standard.  Bad  (that  is,  heartless,  inexperienced,  or  sense- 
less) labour  cannot  be  valued ; it  is  like  gold  of  uncertain 
alloy,  or  flawed  iron.* 

The  quality  and  kind  of  labour  being  given,  its  value, 
like  that  of  all  other  valuable  things,  is  invariable.  But  the 
quantity  of  it  which  must  be  given  for  other  things  is 
variable  ; and  in  estimating  this  variation,  the  price  of  other 

* Labour  which  is  entirely  good  of  its  kind,  that  is  to  say,  effective, 
or  efficient,  the  Greeks  called  “weighable,”  or  a^tos,  translated  usually 
“worthy,”  and  because  thus  substantial  and  true,  they  called  its  price 
T(/<P,  the  “honourable  estimate”  of  it  (honorarium):  this  word  being 
founded  on  their  conception  of  true  labour  as  a divine  thing,  to  be  hon- 
oured with  the  kind  of  honour  given  to  the  gods;  whereas  the  price  of 
false  labour,  or  of  that  which  led  away  from  life,  was  to  be,  not  honour, 
but  vengeance;  for  which  they  reserved  another  word,  attributing  the 
exaction  of  such  price  to  a peculiar  goddess,  called  Tisiphone,  the  “ requit- 
er  (or  quittance-taker)  of  death ; ” a person  versed  in  the  highest 
branches  of  arithmetic,  and  punctual  in  her  habits ; with  whom  accounts 
current  have  been  opened  also  in  modem  days. 


lU 


AD  VALOREM. 


things  must  always  be  counted  by  the  quantity  of  labour ; 
not  the  price  of  labour  by  the  quantity  of  other  things. 

Thus,  if  we  want  to  plant  an  apple  sapling  in  rocky 
ground,  it  may  take  two  hours’  work;  in  soft  ground,  per- 
haps only  half  an  hour.  Grant  the  soil  equally  good  for 
the  tree  in  each  case.  Tlien  the  value  of  the  sapling  plant- 
ed by  two  hours’  work  is  nowise  greater  than  that  of  the 
sapling  planted  in  half  an  hour.  One  will  bear  no  more 
fruit  than  the  other.  Also,  one  half-hour  of  work  is  as 
valuable  as  another  half-hour;  nevertheless  the  one  sapling 
has  cost  four  such  pieces  of  work,  the  other  only  one. 
Now  the  proper  statement  of  this  fact  is,  not  that  the 
labour  on  the  hard  ground  is  cheaper  than  on  the  soft; 
but  that  the  tree  is  dearer.  The  exchange  value  may,  or 
may  not,  afterwards  depend  on  this  fact.  If  other  people 
have  plenty  of  soft  ground  to  plant  in,  they  will  take  no 
cognizance  of  our  two  hours’  labour,  in  the  price  they  will 
offer  for  the  plant  on  the  rock.  And  if,  through  want  of 
sufficient  botanical  science,  we  have  planted  an  upas-tree 
instead  of  an  apple,  the  exchange-value  will  be  a negative 
quantity ; still  less  proportionate  to  the  labour  expended. 

What  is  commonly  called  cheapness  of  labour,  signifies, 
therefore,  in  reality,  that  many  obstacles  have  to  be  over- 
come by  it ; so  that  much  labour  is  required  to  produce  a 
small  result.  But  this  should  never  be  spoken  of  as  cheap 


AD  VALOREM. 


115 


ness  of  labour,  but  as  dearness  of  the  object  wrought  for. 
It  would  be  just  as  rational  to  say  that  walking  was 
cheap,  because  we  liad  ten  miles  to  walk  home  to  our  din- 
ner, as  that  labour  was  cheap,  because  we  had  to  work 
ten  hours  to  earn  it. 

The  last  word  which  we  have  to  define  is  “ Pro- 
duction.” 

I have  hitherto  spoken  of  all  labour  as  profitable ; 
because  it  is  impossible  to  consider  under  one  head  the 
quality  or  value  of  labour,  and  its  aim.  But  labour  of  the 
best  quality  may  be  various  in  aim.  It  may  be  either  con- 
structive (‘‘gathering,”  from  con  and  struo),  as  agriculture ; 
nugatory,  as  jewel-cutting ; or  destructive  (“scattering,” 
from  de  and  struo),  as  war.  It  is  not,  however,  always 
easy  to  prove  labour,  apparently  nugatory,  to  be  actually 
so ; * generally,  the  formula  holds  good : “ he  that  gather- 

* The  most  accurately  nugatory  labour  is,  perhaps,  that  of  which  not 
enough,  is  given  to  answer  a purpose  effectually,  and  which,  therefore, 
has  all  to  be  done  over  again.  Also,  labour  which  fails  of  effect  through 
non-co-operation.  The  cure  of  a little  village  near  Bellinzona,  to  whom  I 
had  expressed  wonder  that  the  peasants  allowed  the  Ticino  to  flood  their 
fields,  told  me  that  they  would  not  join  to  build  an  effectual  embank- 
ment high  up'  the  valley,  because  everybody  said  “that  would  help  his 
neighbours  as  much  as  himself.”  So  every  proprietor  built  a bit  of  low 
embankment  about  his  own  field;  and  the  Ticino,  as  soon  as  it  had  a 
mind,  swept  away  and  swallowed  all  up  together. 


116 


AD  VALOREM. 


eth  not,  scatteretli ; ” tlius,  the  jeweller’s  art  is  probably 
very  harmful  in  its  ministering  to  a clumsy  and  inelegant 
pride.  So  that,  finally,  I believe  nearly  all  labour  may  be 
shortly  divided  into  positive  and  negative  labour:  positive, 
that  which  produces  life ; negative,  that  which  produces 
death ; the  most  directly  negative  labour  being  murder,  and 
the  most  directly  jDositive,  the  bearing  and  rearing  of  chil- 
dren ; so  that  in  the  precise  degree  which  murder  is  hateful, 
on  the  negative  side  of  idleness,  in  that  exact  degree  child- 
rearing  is  admirable,  on  the  positive  side  of  idleness.  For 
which  reason,  and  because  of  the  honour  that  there  is  in 
l earing  ^ children,  while  the  wife  is  said  to  be  as  the  vine 
(for  cheering),  the  children  are  as  the  olive-branch,  for 
praise ; nor  for  praise  only,  but  for  peace  (because  large 
families  can  only  be  reared  in  times  of  peace) : though 
since,  in  their  spreading  and  voyaging  in  various  directions, 
they  distribute  strength,  they  are,  to  the  home  strength, 

* Observe,  I say,  “rearing,”  not  “begetting.”  The  praise  is  in  the 
seventh  season,  not  in  anopriTos,  nor  in  ^vraXtn,  but  in  oTrcopa.  It  is  strange 
that  men  always  praise  enthusiastically  any  person  who,  by  a momentary 
exertion,  saves  a life ; but  praise  very  hesitatingly  a person  who,  by  exer- 
tion and  self-denial  prolonged  through  years,,  creates  one.  We  give  the 
crown  “ob  civem  servatum;  ” — why  not  “ob  civem  natum?  ” Born,  I 
mean,  to  the  fuU,  in  soul  as  well  as  body.  England  has  oak  enough,  I 
think,  for  both  chaplets. 


AD  VALOREM. 


117 


as  arrows  in  the  hand  of  a giant — striking  here  and  there, 
far  away. 

Labour  being  thus  various  in  its  result,  the  prosperity 
of  any  nation  is  in  exact  proportion  to  the  quantity  of 
labour  which  it  spends  in  obtaining  and  employing  means 
of  life.  Observe, — I say,  obtaining  and  employing;  that 
is  to  say,  not  merely  wisely  producing,  but  wisely  dis- 
tributing and  consuming.  Economists  usually  speak  as  if 
there  were  no  good  in  consumption  absolute.*  So  far  from 
this  being  so,  consumption  absolute  is  the  end,  crown,  and 
jDerfection  of  production  ; and  wise  consumption  is  a far  more 
difficult  art  than  wise  production.  Twenty  people  can  gain 
money  for  one  who  can  use  it ; and  the  vital  question,  for 
individual  and  for  nation, -is,  never  “how  much  do  they 
make  ?”  but  “ to  what  purpose  do  they  spend 

The  reader  may,  perhaps,  have  been  surprised  at  the  slight 
reference  I have  hitherto  made  “ to  capital,”  and  its  func- 
tions. It  is  here  the  place  to  define  them. 

Capital  signifies  “head,  or  source,  or  root  material” — 
it  is  material  by  which  some  derivative  or  secondary 
good,  is  produced.  It  is  only  capital  proper  (caput  vivum, 
not  caput  mortuum)  when  it  is  thus  producing  something 

* "When  Mr.  Mill  speaks  of  productive  consumption,  he  only  means 
consumption  which  results  in  increase  of  capital,  or  material  wealth.  See 
I.  iii.  4,  and  I.  iii.  5. 


118 


AD  VALOREM. 


different  from  itself.  It  is  a root,  whicli  does  not  enter 
into  vital  function  till  it  produces  something  else  than  a 
root;  namely,  fruit.  That  fruit  will  in  time  again  produce 
roots;  and  so  all  living  capital  issues  in  reproduction  of 
capital ; but  capital  which  produces  nothing  but  capital 
is  only  root  producing  root ; bulb  issuing  in  bulb,  never 
in  tulip ; seed  issuing  in  seed,  never  in  bread.  The  Political 
Economy  of  Europe  has  hitherto  devoted  itself  wholly  to 
the  multiplication,  or  (less  even)  the  aggregation,  of  bulbs. 
It  never  saw  nor  conceived  such  a thing  as  a tulip,  i^ayj 
boiled  bulbs  they  might  have  been— glass  bulbs — Prince 
Rupert’s  drops,  consummated  in  powder  (well,  if  it  werei 
glass-powder  and  not  gunpowder),  for  any  end  or  meaning 
the  economists  had  in  defining  the  laws  of  aggregation.  We 
will  try  and  get  a clearer  notion  of  them. 

The  best  and  simplest  general  type  of  capital  is  a well-made 
ploughshare.  N"ow,  if  that  ploughshare  did  nothing  but 
beget  other  ploughshares,  in  a polypous  manner,— however 
the  great  cluster  of  polypous  plough  might  glitter  in  the 
sun,  it  would  have  lost  its  function  of  capital.  It  becomes 
true  capital  only  by.  another  kind  of  splendour, — when  it  is 
seen  “ splendescere  sulco,”  to  grow  bright  in  the  furrow ; 
rather  with  diminution  of  its  . substance,  than  addition,  by 
the  noble  friction.  And  the  true  home  question,  to  every 
capitalist  and  to  every  nation,  is  not,  “ how  many  ploughs 


AD  VALOKEM. 


119 


have  you  ?” — but,  “ where  are  your  furrows  ?”  not — “ how 
quickly  will  this  capital  reproduce  itself  ?” — but,  “ what  will  it 
do  during  reproduction  ?”  What  substance  will  it  furnish, 
good  for  life  ? what  work  construct,  protective  of  life  ? if  none, 
its  own  reproduction  is  useless — if  worse  than  none, — (for  capi- 
tal may  destroy  life  as  well  as  support  it),  its  own  reproduc- 
tion is  worse  than  useless ; it  is  merely  an  advance  from 
Tisiphone,  on  mortgage — not  a profit  by  any  means. 

Not  a profit,  as  the  ancients  truly  saw,  and  showed  in  the 
type  of  Ixion;  for  capital  iS"  the  head,  or  fountain  head, 
of  wealth — the  “ well-head  ” of  wealth,  as  the  clouds  are 
the  well-heads  of  rain : but  when  clouds  are  without  water, 
and  only  beget  clouds,  they  issue  in  wrath  at  last,  instead 
of  rain,  and  in  lightning  instead  of  harvest;  whence  Ixion 
is  said  first  to  have  invited  his  guests  to  a banquet,  and 
then  made  them  fall  into  a pit  filled  with  fire ; which  is 
the  type  of  the  temptation  of  riches  issuing  in  imprisoned 
torment. — ^torment  in  a pit,  (as  also  Demas’  silver  mine,) 
after  which,  to  show  the  rage  of  riches  passing  from  lust 
of  pleasure  to  lust  of  power,  yet  power  not  truly  understood, 
Ixion  is  said  to  have  desired  Juno,  and  instead,  embracing  a 
cloud  (or  phantasm),  to  have  begotten  the  Centaurs ; tlie 
power  of  mere  wealth  being,  in  itself,  as  the  embrace  of 
a shadow, — comfortless,  (so  also  Ephraim  feedeth  on  wind 
and  followeth  after  the  east  wind  ; or  “that  which  is  not”— 


120 


AD  VALOREM. 


Prov.  xxiii.  5 ; and  again  Dante’s  Geiyon,  the  typo  of 
avaricious  fraud,  as  he  flies,  gathers  the  air  up  with  retractile 
claws, — “ I’aer  a se  raccolse,”*^)  but  in  its  offspring,  a mingling 
of  the  brutal  with  the  human  nature:  human  in  sagacity — 
using  both  intellect  and  arrow ; but  brutal  in  its  body  and 
hoof,  for  consuming  and  trampling  down.  For  which  sin 
Ixion  is  at  last  bound  upon  a wheel — fiery  and  toothed,  and 
rolling  perpetually  in  the  air ; — the  type  of  human  labour 
when  selfish  and  fruitless  (kept  far  into  the  middle  ages  in 
their  wheel  of  fortune) ; the  wheel  which  has  in  it  no  breath 
or  spirit,  but  is  whirled  by  chance  only ; whereas  of  all  true 
work  the  Ezekiel  vision  is  true,  that  the  spirit  of  the  living 

* So  also  in  the  vision  of  the  women  bearing  the  ephah,  before 
quoted,  “the  wind  was  in  their  wings,”  not  wings  “of  a stork,”  as 
in  our  version;  but  of  a kite,  in  the  Vulgate,  or  perhaps  more 

accurately  still  in  the  Septuagint,  “ hoopoe,”  a bird  connected  typically  with 
the  power  of  riches  by  many  traditions,  of  which  that  of  its  petition  for  a 
crest  of  gold  is  perhaps  the  most  interesting.  The  “ Birds”  of  Aristophanes, 
in  which  its  part  is  principal,  are  full  of  them ; note  especially  the  “ fortifi- 
cation of  the  air  with  baked  bricks,  hke  Babylon,”  1.  550;  and,  again, 
compare  the  Plutus  of  Dante,  who  (to  show  the  influence  of  riches  in 
destroying  the  reason)  is  the  only  one  of  the  powers  of  the  Inferno  who 
cannot  speak  intelligibly ; and  also  the  cowardliest;  he  is  not  merely 
quelled  or  restrained,  but  literally  “collapses”  at  a word;  the  sudden  and 
helpless  operation  of  mercantile  panic  being  all  told  in  the  brief  metaphor, 
“ as  tlie  sails,  swollen  with  the  wind,  fall,  when  the  mast  breaks.'' 


AD  VALOREM. 


121 


creature  is  in  the  wheels,  and  where  the  angels  go,  the  wheels 
go  by  them ; but  move  no  otherwise. 

This  being  the  real  nature  of  capital,  it  follows  that  there 
are  two  kinds  of  true  production,  always  going  on  in  an  active 
State  ; one  of  seed,  and  one  of  food  or  production  for  the 
Ground,  and  for  the  Mouth ; both  of  which  are  by  covetous 
persons  thought  to  be  production  only  for  the  granary ; 
whereas  the  function  of  the  granary  is  but  intermediate  and 
conservative,  fulfilled  in  distribution ; else  it  ends  in  nothing 
but  mildew,  and  nourishment  of  rats  and  worms.  And 
since  production  for  the  Ground  is  only  useful  with  future  hope 
of  harvest,  all  essential  production  is  for  the  Mouth ; and  is 
finally  measured  by  the  mouth ; hence,  as  I said  above, 
consumption  is  the  crown  of  production  ; and  the  wealth  of 
a nation  is  only  to  be  estimated  by  what  it  consumes. 

The  want  of  any  clear  sight  of  this  fact  is  the  capital 
error,  issuing  in  rich  interest  and  revenue  of  error,  among 
the  political  economists.  Their  minds  are  continually  set  on 
money-gain,  not  on  mouth  gain ; and  they  fall  into  every  sort 
of  net  and  snare,  dazzled  by  the  coin-glitter  as  birds  by  the 
fowler’s  glass ; or  rather  (for  there  is  not  much  else  like  birds 
in  them)  they  are  like  children  trying  to  jump  on  the 
neads  of  their  own  shadows ; the  money-gain  being  only  the 
shadow  of  the  true  gain,  which  is  humanity. 

The  final  object  of  political  economy,  therefore,  is  to  get 
6 


122 


AD  VALOREM. 


good  method  of  consumption,  and  great  quantity  ol  consump- 
tion : in  other  words,  to  use  everything,  and  to  use  it  nobly ; 
whether  it  be  substance,  service,  or  service  perfecting 
substance.  The  most  curious  error  in  Mr.  Mill’s  entire  work 
(provided  for  him  originally  by  Ricardo),  is  his  endeavour 
to  distinguish  between  direct  and  indirect  service,  and 
consequent  assertion  that  a demand  for  commodities  is  not 
demand  for  labour  (I.  v.  9,  et  seq.)  He  distinguishes  be- 
tween labourers  employed  to  lay  out  pleasure  grounds,  and 
to  manufacture  velvet ; declaring  that  it  makes  material  dif- 
ference to  the  labouring  classes  in  which  of  these  two  ways  a 
capitalist  spends  his  money;  because  the  employment  of  the 
gardeners  is  a demand  for  labour,  but  the  purchase  of  velvet 
is  not.*  Error  colossal  as  well  as  strange.  It  will,  indeed, 

* The  value  of  raw  material,  which  has,  indeed,  to  he  deducted  from  the 
price  of  the  labour,  is  not  contemplated  in  the  passages  referred  to,  Mr.  Mill 
having  fallen  into  the  mistake  solely  by  pursuing  the  collateral  results  of 
the  payment  of  wages  to  middlemen.  He  says — “ The  consumer  does  not, 
with  his  own  funds,  pay  the  weaver  for  his  day’s  work.”  Pardon  me ; the 
consumer  of  the  velvet  pays  the  weaver  with  his  own  funds  as  much  as  he 
pays  the  gardener.  He  pays,  probably,  an  intermediate  ship-owner,  velvet 
merchant,  and  shopman;  pays  carriage  money,  shop  rent,  damage  money, 
time  money,  and  care  money ; all  these  are  above  and  beside  the  velvet 
price  (just  as  the  wages  of  a head  gardener  would  be  above  the  grass 
price) ; but  the  velvet  is  as  much  produced  by  the  consumer’s  capital, 
though  he  does  not  pay  for  it  tiU  six  months  after  production,  as  the  grass 


AD  VALOREM. 


12.3 


ma?ie  a difference  to  the  labourer  whether  he  bid  him  swing  his 
scythe  in  the  spring  winds,  or  drive  the  loom  in  pestilential 
air ; but,  so  far  as  his  pocket  is  concerned,  it  makes  to  him 
absolutely  no  difference  whether  we  order  him  to  make 
green  velvet,  with  seed  and  a scythe,  or  red  velvet,  with  silk 
and  scissors.  Neither  does  it  anywise  concern  him  whether, 
when  the  velvet  is  made,  we  consume  it  by  walking  on  it,  or 
wearing  it,  so  long  as  our  consumption  of  it  is  wholly  selfish. 
But  if  our  consumption  is  to  be  in  anywise  unselfish,  not  only 
our  mode  of  consuming  the  articles  we  require  interests  him, 
but  also  the  hind  of  article  we  require  with  a view  to 
consumption.  As  thus  (returning  for  a moment  to  Mr.  Mill’s 
great  hardware  theory*) : it  matters,  so  far  as  the  labourer’s 
immediate  profit  is  concerned,  not  an  iron  filing  whether  I 
employ  him  in  growing  a peach,  or  forging  a bombshell ; but 
my  probable  mode  of  consumption  of  those  articles  matters 
seriously.  Admit  that  it  is  to  be  in  both  cases  “ unselfish,” 

is  produced  by  his  capital,  though  he  does  not  pay  the  man  who  mowed 
and  rolled  it  on  Monday,  till  Saturday  afternoon.  I do  not  know  if  Mr. 
Mill’s  conclusion, — “ the  capital  cannot  be  dispensed  with,  the  purchasers 
can”  (p.  98),  has  yet  been  reduced  to  practice  in  the  City  on  any  large 
scale. 

* Which,  observe,  is  the  precise  opposite  of  the  one  under  examination. 
The  hardware  theory  required  us  to  discharge  our  gardeners  and. engage 
manufacturers;  the  velvet  theory  requires  us  to  discharge  our  manufac 
turers  and  engage  gardeners. 


124 


AT>  VALOREM. 


and  tlie  difference,  to  Mm,  is  final,  whether  when  Ms  child  Is 
ill,  I walk  it  into  Ms  cottage  and  give  it  the  peach,  or  drop 
the  shell  down  his  chimney,  and  blow  his  roof  off. 

The  worst  of  it,  for  the  peasant,  is,  that  the  capitalist’s 
consumption  of  the  peach  is  apt  to  he  selfish,  and  of  the 
shell,  distributive ; * but,  in  all  cases,  this  is  the  broad  and 
general  fact,  that  on  due  catallactic  commercial  principles, 

* It  is  one  very  awful  form  of  the  operation  of  wealth  in  Europe  that 
it  is  entirely  capitalists’  wealth  which  supports  unjust  wars.  Just  wars 
do  not  need  so  much  money  to  support  them ; for  most  of  the  men  who 
wage  such,  wage  them  gratis;  hut  for  an  unjust  war,  men’s  bodies  and 
souls  have  both  to  be  bought ; and  the  best  tools  of  war  for  them  besides ; 
which  makes  such  war  costly  to  the  maximum;  not  to  speak  of  the 
cost  of  base  fear,  and  angry  suspicion,  between  nations  which  have  not 
grace  nor  honesty  enough  in  all  their  multitudes  to  buy  an  hour’s  peace 
of  mind  with : as,  at  present,  France  and  England,  purchasing  of  each 
other  ten  millions  sterling  worth  of  consternation  annually,  (a  remarkably 
light  crop,  half  thorns  and  half  aspen  leaves, — sown,  reaped,  and  grana- 
ried  by  the  “science”  of  the  modern  pohtical  economist,  teaching  covet- 
ousness instead  of  truth.)  And  all  unjust  war  being  supportable,  if  not 
by  pillage  of  the  enemy,  only  by  loans  from  capitahsts,  these  loans  are 
repaid  by  subsequent  taxation  of  the  people,  who  appear  to  have  no  will 
in  the  matter,  the  capitahsts’  will  being  the  primary  root  of  the  war; 
but  its  real  root  is  the  covetousness  of  the  whole  nation,  rendering  i^ 
incapable  of  faith,  frankness,  or  justice,  and  bringing  about,  therefore,  in 
due  time,  his  own  separate  loss  and  punishment  to  each  person. 


AD  VALOREM. 


125 


iomebodifs  roof  must  go  off  in  fulfilment  of  tlie  bomb’s 
destiny.  You  may  grow  for  your  neighbour,  at  your  liking, 
grapes  or  grapeshot ; he  will  also,  catallactically,  gro\\ 
grapes  or  grapeshot  for  you,  and  you  will  each  reap  what 
you  have  sown. 

It  is,  therefore,  the  maimer  and  issue  of  consumption 
which  are  the  real  tests  of  production.  Production  does 
not  consist  in  things  laboriously  made,  but  in  things  service- 
ably consumable ; and  the  question  for  the  nation  is  not 
how  much  labour  it  employs,  but  how  much  life  it  pro- 
duces. For  as  consumption  is  the  end  and  aim  of  produc- 
tion, so  life  is  the  end  and  aim  of  consumption. 

I left  this  question  to  the  reader’s  thought  two  months 
ago,  choosing  rather  that  he  should  work  it  out  for  him- 
self than  have  it  sharply  stated  to  him.  But  now,  the 
ground  being  sufficiently  broken  (and  the  details  into  wliich 
the  several  questions,  here  opened,  must  lead  us,  being  too 
complex  for  discussion  in  the  pages  of  a periodical,  so  that 
I must  pursue  them  elsewhere),  I desii-e,  in  closing  the 
series  of  introductory  papers,  to  leave  this  one  great  fact 
clearly  stated.  There  is  no  Wealth  but  Life.  Life, 
including  all  its  powers  of  love,  of  joy,  and  of  admiration. 
That  country  is  the  richest  which  nourishes  the  greatest 
number  of  noble  and  happy  human  beings;  that  man  is 
richest  who,  leaving  perfected  the  functions  of  his  own  life 


126 


AD  VALOEEM. 


to  the  utmost,  has  also  the  widest  helpful  influence,  both 
personal,  and  by  means  of  his  jDOSsessions,  over  the  lives  of 
others. 

A strange  political  economy;  the  only  one,  nevertheless, 
that  ever  was  or  can  be : all  political  economy  founded  on 
self-interest'^  being  but  the  fulfilment  of  that  which  once 
brought  schism  into  the  Policy  of  angels,  and  ruin  into  the 
Economy  of  Heaven. 

“ The  greatest  number  of  human  beings  noble  and 
happy.”  But  is  the  nobleness  consistent  with  the  number? 
Yes,  not  only  consistent  with  it,  but  essential  to  it.  The 
maximum  of  life  can  only  be  reached  by  the  maximum  of 
virtue.  In  this  respect  the  law  of  human  population  differs 
wholly  from  that  of  animal  life.  The  multiplication  of 
animals  is  checked  only  by  want  of  food,  and  by  the  hos- 
tility of  races ; the  population  of  the  gnat  is  restrained  by 
the  hunger  of  the  swallow,  and  that  of  the  swallow  by  the 
scarcity  of  gnats.  Man,  considered  as  an  animal,  is  indeed 
limited  by  the  same  laws;  hunger,  or  plague,  or  war,  are 
the  necessary  and  only  restraints  upon  his  increase, — effect- 
ual restraints  hitherto, — his  j^rincipal  study  having  been  how 
most  swiftly  to  destroy  himself,  or  ravage  his  dwelling- 
places,  and  his  highest  skill  directed  to  give  range  to  the 

* “In  all  reasoning  about  prices,  the  proviso  must  be  understood, 
* supposing  aU  parties  to  take  care  of  their  own  interest.’  ” — si^Iill,  III.  i.  5. 


AD  VALOREM. 


127 


famine,  seed  to  the  plague,  and  sway  to  the  sword.  But, 
considered  as  other  than  an  animal,  his  increase  is  not 
limited  by  these  laws.  It  is  limited  only  by  the  limits  of 
his  courage  and  his  love.  Both  of  these  their  bounds ; 
and  ought  to  have : his  race  has  its  bounds  also ; but  these 
have  not  yet  been  reached,  nor  will  be  reached  for 
ages. 

In  all  the  ranges  of  human  thought  I know  none  so 
melancholy  as  the  Sj^eculations  of  political  economists  on  the 
l)opulation  question.  It  is  proposed  to  better  the  condition 
of  the  labourer  by  giving  him  higher  wages.  ay,”  says 
the  economist,  “ if  you  raise  his  wages,  he  will  either  peo- 
ple down  to  the  same  point  of  misery  at  which  you  found 
him,  or  drink  your  wages  away.”  He  will.  I know  it. 
Who  gave  him  this  will?  Suppose  it  were  your  own  son 
of  whom  you  spoke,  declaring  to  me  that  you  dared  not 
take  him  into  your  firm,  nor  even  give  him  his  just  labour 
er’s  wages,  because  if  you  did,  he  would  die  of  drunkenness, 
and  leave  half  a score  of  children  to  the  parish.  “ Who 
g.'n  e your  son  these  dispositions  ? ” — I should  inquire.  Has 
he  them  by  inheiitance  or  by  education  ? By  one  or  other 
they  must  come ; and  as  in  him,  so  also  in  the  poor. 
Either  these  poor  are  of  a race  essentially  different  from 
ours,  and  unredeemable  (which,  however  often  implied,  I 
have  heard  none  yet  openly  say),  or  else  by  such  care  as 


J28 


AD  VALOREM. 


we  have  ourselves  received,  we  may  make  them  continent 
and  sober  as  ourselves — Avise  and  dispassionate  as  we  are« 
— models  arduous  of  imitation.  “But,”  it  is  answered, 
“ they  cannot  receive  education,”  Why  not  ? That  is  pre- 
cisely the  point  at  issue.  Charitable  persons  suppose  the 
Avorst  fault  of  the  rich  is  to  refuse  the  people  meat ; and 
the  people  cry  for  their  meat,  kept  back  by  fraud,  to  the 
Lord  of  Multitudes.^  Alas ! it  is  not  meat  of  Avhich  the 
refusal  is  crudest,  or  to  which  the  claim  is  validest.  The 

* James  V.  4.  Observe,  in  these  statements  I am  not  taking  up,  nor 
countenancing  one  Avhit,  the  common  socialist  idea  of  division  of  property; 
division  of  property  is  its  destruction;  and  with  it  the  destruction  of  all 
hope,  all  industry,  and  all  justice : it'  is  simply  chaos — a chaos  towards 
which  the  believers  in  modern  political  economy  are  fast  tending,  and 
from  which  I am  striving  to  save  them.  The  rich  man  does  not  keep 
back  meat  from  the  poor  by  retaining  his  riches;  but  by  basely  using 
them.  Riches  are  a form  of  strength ; and  a strong  man  does  not  injure 
others  by  keeping  his  strength,  but  by  using  it  injuriously.  The  socialist, 
seeing  a strong  man  oppress  a weak  one,  cries  out — “Break  the  strong 
man’s  arms ; ” but  I say,  “ Teach  him  to  use  them  to  better  purpose.” 
The  fortitude  and  intelligence  which  acquire  riches  are  intended,  by  the 
Giver  of  both,  not  to  scatter,  nor  to  give  away,  but  to  employ  those 
riches  in  the  service  of  mankind;  in  other  words,  in  the  redemption  of 
the  erring  and  aid  of  the  weak — that  is  to  say,  there  is  first  to  be  the 
work  to  gain  money ; then  the  Sabbath  of  use  for  it — the  Sabbath,  whose 
law  is,  not  to  lose  life,  but  to  save.  It  is  continually  the  fault  or  the 


AD  VALOREM. 


129 


life  is  more  than  the  meat.  Tlie  rich  not  only  refuse  fooci 
to  the  poor;  they  refuse  wisdom;  they  refuse  virtue;  they 
refuse  salvation.  Ye  sheep  without  shepherd,  it  is  not  the 
])asture  that  has  been  shut  from  you,  but  the  presence. 
Meat!  perhaps  your  right  to  that  may  be  pleadable;  but 
other  rights  have  to  be  pleaded  first.  Claim  your  crumbs 
from  the  table,  if  you  will ; but  claim  them  as  children, 
not  as  dogs;  claim  your  right  to  be  fed,  but  claim  more 
loudly  your  right  to  be  holy,  perfect,  and  pure. 

Strange  words  to  be  used  of  working  people  : “ What ! 

holy;  without  any  long  robes  nor  anointing  oils;  these 
rough-jacketed,  rough-worded  persons;  set  to  nameless  and 
dishonoured  service?  Perfect! — these,  with  dim  eyes  and 
cramped  limbs,  and  slowly  wakening  minds  ? Pure — these, 
with  sensual  desire  and  grovelling  thought ; foul  of  body, 
and  coarse  of  soul?”  It  may  be  so;  nevertheless,  such  as 
they  are,  they  are  the  holiest,  perfectest,  purest  persons 
folly  of  the  poor  that  they  are  poor,  as  it  is  usually  a child’s  fault  if  it 
falls  into  a pond,  and  a cripple’s  weakness  that  slips  at  a crossing; 
nevertheless,  most  passers-by  would  pull  the  child  out,  or  help  up  the 
cripple.  Put  it  at  the  worst,  that  all  the  poor  of  the  world  are  but 
disobedient  children,  or  careless  cripples,  and  that  all  rich  people  are 
wise  and  strong,  and  you  will  see  at  once  that  neither  is  the  socialist 
right  in  desiring  to  make  everybody  poor,  powerless,  and  foohsh  as  he 
is  himself,  nor  the  rich  man  right  in  leaving  the  children  in  the 
mire. 


6* 


130 


AD  VALOREM. 


the  earth  can  at  present  show.  They  may  be  what  yoa 
liave  said  ; but  if  so,  they  yet  are  holier  than  we,  who 
liave  left  them  thus. 

But  what  can  be  done  for  them  ? Who  can  clothe — 
who  teach — who  restrain  their  multitudes  ? What  end  can 
there  be  for  them  at  last,  but  to  consume  one  another  ? 

I hope  for  another  end,  though  not,  indeed,  from  any 
of  the  three  remedies  for  over-population  commonly  suggested 
by  economists. 

These  three  are,  in  brief — Colonization ; Bringing  in  of 
waste  lands ; or  Discouragement  of  Mamage. 

The  first  and  second  of  these  expedients  merely  evade  or 
delay  the  question.  It  will,  indeed,  be  long  before  the 
world  has  been  all  colonized,  and  its  deserts  all  brought 
under  cultivation.  But  the  radical  question  is  not  how 
much  habitable  land  is  in  the  world,  but  how  many  human 
beings  onglit  to  be  maintained  on  a given  space  of  habitable 
land. 

Observe,  I say,  ought  to  be,  not  how  many  can  be. 
Bicardo,  with  his  usual  inaccuracy,  defines  what  he  calls 
the  “ natural  rate  of  wages  ” as  “ that  which  will  maintain 
the  labourer.”  Maintain  him!  yes;  but  how  ? — ^the  question 
was  instantly  thus  asked  of  me  by  a working  girl,  to  whom 
I read  the  passage.  I will  amplify  her  question  for  her. 
“ Maintain  him,  how  ? ” As  first,  to  what  length  of  life  ? 


AD  VALOREM. 


131 


Out  of  a given  number  of  fed  persons  bow  many  arc  to  be 
old — bow  many  young  ; tliat  is  to  say,  will  you  arrange 
tbeir  mriintenance  so  as  to  kill  them  early — say  at  tbirly 
or  tbirty-fye  on  the  average,  including  deaths  of  weakl) 
or  ill-fed  children  ? — or  so  as  to  enable  them  to  live  out  a 
natural  life?  You' will  feed  a greater  number,  in  the  first 
case,^'’  by  rapidity  of  succession ; probably  a happier  num- 
ber in  the  second:  which  does  Mr.  Ricardo  mean  to  be 
their  natural  state,  and  to  which  state  belongs  the  natural 
rate  of  wages  ? 

Again : A piece  of  land  which  will  only  suj)port  ten 

idle,  ignorant,  and  improvident  persons,  will  sup|3ort  thirty 
or  forty  intelligent  and  industrious  ones.  Which  of  these 
is  their  natural  state,  and-  to  which  of  them  belongs  the 
natural  rate  of  wages  ? 

Again  : If  a piece  of  land  support  forty  persons  in  indus- 
trious ignorance ; and  if,  tired  of  this  ignorance,  they  set 
apart  ten  of  their  number  to  study  the  properties  of  cones, 
and  the  sizes  of  stars  ; the  labour  of  these  ten,  being  with- 
di-awn  from  the  ground,  must  either  tend  to  the  increase 
of  food  in  some  transitional  manner,  or  the  persons  set 
apart  for  siderial  and  conic  purposes  must  starve,  or  some 
one  else  starve  instead  of  them.  What  is,  therefore,  the 

* The  quantity  of  life  is  the  same  in.  both  cases ; but  it  is  differentlj 


allotted. 


132 


AD  VALOREIM. 


rate  natural  of  wages  of  the  scientiiic  persons,  and  how 
does  this  rate  relate  to,  or  measure,  their  reverted  or 
trnnsitional  productiveness  ? 

Again : If  the  ground  maintains,  at  first,  forty  labourers 
in  a peaceable  and  pious  state  of  mind,  but  they  become  in 
a few  years  so  quarrelsome  and  impious  that  they  have  to 
set  apart  five,  to  meditate  upon  and  settle  their  disputes ; — ■ 
ten,  armed  to  the  teeth  with  costly  instruments,  to  enforce 
the  decisions;  and  five  to  remind  everybody  in  an  eloquent 
manner  of  the  existence  of  a God  ; — what  will  be  the  result 
upon  the  general  power  of  production,  and  what  is  the 
“natural  rate  of  wages”  of  the  meditative,  muscular,  and 
oracular  labourers  ? 

Leaving  these  questions  to  be  discussed,  or  waived,  at 
their  pleasure,  by  Mi’.  Ricardo’s  followers,  I proceed  to  state 
the  main  facts  bearing  on  that  probable  future  of  the  labour- 
ing classes  which  has  been  partially  glanced  at  by  Mr,  Mill. 
That  chapter  and  the  preceding  one  differ  from  the  common 
writing  of  political  economists  in  admitting  some  value  in 
the  aspect  of  nature,  and  expressing  regret  at  the  proba- 
bility of  the  destruction  of  natural  scenery.  But  we  may 
spare  our  anxieties  on  this  head.  Men  can  neither  drink 
steam,  nor  eat  stone.  The  maximum  of  population  on  a 
given  space  of  land  implies  also  the  relative  maximum  of 
edible  vegetable,  whether  for  men  or  cattle  ; it  implies  a 


AU  VALOllEM. 


133 


maximmn  of  pure  air ; and  of  pure  water.  Therefore : a 
maximum  of  wood,  to  transmute  tlie  air,  and  of  sloping 
ground,  protected  by  herbage  from  the  extreme  heat  of  the 
sun,  to  feed  the  streams.  All  England  may,  if  it  so  cliooses, 
become  one  manufacturing  town ; and  Englishmen,  sacri- 
ficing themselves  to  the  good  of  general  humanity,  may  live 
diminished  lives  in  the  midst  of  noise,  of  darkness,  and  of 
deadly  exhalation.  But  the  world  cannot  become  a factory, 
nor  a mine.  No  amount  of  ingenuity  will  ever  make  iron 
digestible  by  the  million,  nor  substitute  hydrogen  for  wine. 
Neither  the  avarice  nor  the  rage  of  men  will  ever  feed  them, 
and  however  the  apple  of  Sodom  and  the  grape  of  Gomorrah 
may  spread  their  table  fi^r  a time  with  dainties  of  ashes,  and 
nectar  of  asps, — so  long  as  men  live  by  bread,  the  far  away 
valleys  must  laugh  as  they  are  covered  vrith  the  gold  of  God, 
and  the  shouts  of  His  happy  multitudes  ring  l ound  the  wine- 
])ress  and  the  well. 

Nor  need  our  more  sentimental  economists  fear  the  too 
wide  spread  of  the  formalities  of  a mechanical  agriculture. 
The  presence  of  a wise  population  implies  the  search  for 
felicity  as  well  as  for  food ; nor  can  any  population  reach  its 
maximum  but  through  that  wisdom  which  “rejoices”  in  the 
habitable  parts  of  the  earth.  The  desert  has  its  appointed 
place  and  work;  the  eternal  engine,  whose  beam  is  the  earth’s 
axle,  whose  beat  is  its  year,  and  whose  breath  is  its  ocean, 


134 


AD  VALOEEM. 


will  still  divide  imperiously  to  their  desert  kingdoms,  bound 
with  unfurrowable  rock,  and  swept  by  unarrested  sand,  their 
powers  of  frost  and  fire : but  the  zones  and  lands  between, 
habitable,  will  be  loveliest  in  habitation.  The  desire  of  the 
heart  is  also  the  light  of  the  eyes.  I^^o  scene  is  continually 
and  untiringly  loved,  but  one  rich  by  joyful  human  labour; 
smooth  in  field,  fair  in  garden ; full  in  orchard ; trim,  sweet, 
and  frequent  in  homestead ; ringing  with  voices  of  vivid 
existence.  No  air  is  sweet  that  is  silent;  it  is  only  sweet 
when  full  of  low  currents  of  under  sound — triplets  of  birds, 
and  murmur  and  chirp  of  insects,  and  deep-toned  words  of 
men,  and  wayward  trebles  of  childhood.  As  the  art  of  life 
is  learned,  it  will  be  found  at  last  that  all  lovely  things  are 
also  necessary : — the  wild  flower  by  the  wayside,  as  well 
as  the  tended  corn ; and  the  wild  birds  and  creatures  of  the 
forest,  as  well  as  the  tended  cattle;  because  man  doth  not 
live  by  bread  only,  but  also  by  the  desert  manna;  by  every 
■wondrous  word  and  unknowable  work  of  God.  Happy,  in 
that  he  knew  them  not,  nor  did  his  fathers  know ; and  that 
round  about  him  reaches  yet  into  the  infinite,  the  amazement 
of  his  existence. 

Note,  finally,  that  all  effectual  advancement  towards  this 
true  felicity  of  the  human  race  must  be  by  individual,  not 
public  effort.  Certain  general  measures  may  aid,  certain 
revised  laws  guide,  such  advancement;  but  the  measure  and 


AD  YALOKEM. 


135 


law  which  have  first  to  be  determined  are  those  of  each 
man’s  home.  We  continually  hear  it  recommended  by  saga- 
clous  people  to  complaining  neighbours  (usually  less  well 
placed  in  the  world  than  themselves),  that  they  should  “re 
main  content  in  the  station  in  Avhich  Providence  has  placed 
them.”  There  are-  perhaps  some  circumstances  of  life  in 
which  Providence  has  no  intention  that  people  should  be 
content.  ISTevertheless,  the  maxim  is  on  the  whole  a good 
one  ; but  it  is  peculiarly  for  home  use.  That  your  neighbour 
should,  or  should  not,  remain  content  with  his  position,  is 
not  your  business ; but  it  is  very  much  your  business  to 
remain  content  with  your  own.  What  is  chiefly  needed  in 
England  at  the  present  day  is  to  show  the  quantity  of  plea- 
sure that  may  be  obtained  by  a consistent,  well-administered 
competence,  modest,  confessed,  and  laborious.  We  need 
examples  of  people  who,  leaving  Heaven  to  decide  whether 
they  are  to  rise  in  the  world,  decide  for  themselves  that  they 
will  be  happy  in  it,  and  have  resolved  to  seek — not  greater 
wealth,  but  simjfler  pleasure;  not  higher  fortune,  but  deeper 
felicity ; making  the  fii-st  of  possessions,  self-possession ; and 
honouring  themselves  in  the  harmless  pride  and  calm  pursuits 
of  peace. 

Of  which  lowly  peace  it  is  written  that  “justice  and  peace 
have  kissed  each  other;”  and  that  the  fruit  of  justice  is 
“sown  in  peace  of  them  that  make  peace;”  not  “peace 


136 


AD  VALOREM. 


makers”  in  the  common  understanding — reconcilers  of  quar* 
rels;  (tLoiigh  that  function  also  follows  on  the  greater  one;) 
but  peace-Creators ; Givers  of  Calm.  Which  you  cannot  give, 
unless  you  first  gain ; nor  is  this  gain  one  which  will  follow 
assuredly  on  any  course  of  business,  commonly  so  called. 
Xo  form  of  gain  is  less  probable,  business  being  (as  is  shown 
in  the  language  of  all  nations — vrwXsfv  from  <rrsXu,  from 

‘jtspxu,  venire,  vendre,  and  venal,  from  venio,  &c.)  essentially 
restless  — and  pi-obably  contentious; — having  a raven-like 
mind  to  the  motion  to  and  fro,  as  to  the  carrion  food; 
whereas  the  olive-feeding  and  bearing  birds  look  for  rest  for 
their  feet : thus  it  is  said  of  Wisdom  thal  she  “ hath  builded 
her  house,  and  hewn  out  her  seven  pillars ;”  and  even  when, 
though  apt  to  wait  long  at  the  doorposts,  she  has  to  leave 
her  house  and  go  abroad,  her  paths  are  peace  also. 

For  us,  at  all  events,  her  work  must  begin  at  the  entry 
of  the  doors:  all  true  economy  is  “Law  of  the  house.” 
Strive  to  make  that  law  strict,  simple,  generous:  waste 
nothing,  and  grudge  nothing.  Care  in  nowise  to  make 
more  of  money,  but  care  to  make  much  of  it ; remembering 
always  the  great,  palpable,  inevitable  fact — the  rule  and 
root  of  all  economy — that  what  one  person  has,  another 
cannot  have;  and  that  every  atom  of  substance,  of  what- 
ever kind,  used  or  consumed,  is  so  much  human  life  spent ; 
which,  if  it  issue  in  the  saving  present  life,  or  gaining 


AD  VALOREM. 


137 


more,  is  well  spent,  but  if  not,  is  either  so  much  life  pre- 
vented, or  so  much  slain.  In  all  buying,  consider,  first, 
what  condition  of  existence  you  cause  in  the  producers 
of  what  you  buy  5 secondly,  whether  the  sum  you  have 
,)aid  is  just  to  the  producer,  and  in  due  proportion, 
lodged  in  his  hands  thirdly,  to  how  much  clear  use, 
fur  food,  knowledge,  or  joy,  this  that  you  have  bought 
can  be  put ; and  fourthly,  to  whom  and  in  what  way 
it  can  be  most  speedily  and  serviceably  distributed : in 
all  dealings  whatsoever  insisting  on  entire  openness  and 
stern  fulfilment ; and  in  all  doings,  on  perfection  and 
loveliness  of  accomplishment;  especially  on  fineness  and 
purity  of  all  marketable  commodity:  watching  at  the 
same  time  for  all  ways  of  gaining,  or  teaching,  powers 
of  simple  pleasure ; and  of  showing  “ 6Vov  sv  ysy’ 

nvsioip” — the  sum  of  enjoyment  depending  not  on  the  quan- 
tity of  things  tasted,  but  on  the  vivacity  and  patience  of 
taste. 

* The  proper  offices  of  middle-men,  namely,  overseers  (or  authoritative 
workmen),  conveyancers  (merchants,  sailors,  retail  dealers,  &c.),  and  order- 
takers  (persons  employed  to  receive  directions  from  the  consumer),  must, 
of  course,  be  examined  before  I can  enter  farther  into  the  question  of 
just  payment  of  the  first  producer.  But  I have  not  spoken  of  them  in 
these  introductory  papers,  because  the  evils  attendant  on  the  abuse  of 
such  intermediate  functions  result  not  from  any  alleged  principle  of  mod 
ern  pohtical  economy,  but  from  private  carelessness  or  iniquity. 


138 


AD  VALOREM. 


And  if,  on  due  and  honest  thought  over  these  things, 
it  seems  that  the  kind  of  existence  to  which  men  are 
now  summoned  by  every  plea  of  pity  and  claim  of  righi, 
may,  for  some  time  at  least,  not  be  a luxurious  one ; 
— consider  whether,  even  supposing  it  guiltless,  luxury 
would  be  desired  by  any  of  us,  if  we  saw  clearly  at 
our  sides  the  suffering  which  accompanies  it  in  the  world. 
Luxury  is  indeed  possible  in  the  future — innocent  and 
exquisite;  luxury  for  all,  and  by  the  help  of  all:  but 
luxury  at  present  can  only  be  enjoyed  by  the  ignorant ; 
the  cruelest  man  living  could  not  sit  at  his  feast,  unless 
he  sat  blindfold.  Raise  the  veil  boldly;  face  the  light; 
and  if,  as  yet,  the  light  of  the  eye  can  only  be  through 
tears,  and  the  light  of  the  body  through  sackcloth,  go 
thou  forth  weeping,  bearing  precious  seeci,  until  the  time 
come,  and  the  kingdom,  when  Christ’s  gift  of  bread  and 
bequest  of  peace  shall  be  Unto  this  last  as  unto  thee; 
and  when,  for  earth’s  severed  multitudes  of  the  wicked 
and  the  weary,  there  shall  be  holier  reconciliation  than 
that  of  the  narroAV  home,  and  calm  economy,  where  the 
Wicked  cease — not  from  trouble,  but  from  troubling— 
and  the  Weary  are  at  rest. 


THE  EXD 


/ 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


SIX  ESSAYS 

ON  THE  ELEMENTS  OF 

POLITICAL  ECONOMY. 


BY 

JOHN  RUSKIN, 

HONORARY  STUDENT  OF  CHRISTCHURCH,  OXFORD. 


NEW  YORK: 

JOHN  WILEY  & SON, 

15  ASTOR  PLACE. 

1872. 


Poole  & Maclauchlan,  Printers, 

205-213  East  Twelfth  Street. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


Preface  v 


CHAP. 

I.  Definitions 1 

II.  Store-Keeping  21 

[II,  Coin-Keeping  57 

tv.  Commerce  83 

V.  Government  ' 98 

VI.  Mastership 131 


Appendices  157 


PREFACE. 


The  following  pages  contain,  I believe,  the  first  accu- 
rate analysis  of  the  laws  of  Political  Economy  which  has 
been  published  in  England.  Many  treatises,  within  their 
scope,  correct,  have  aj)peared  in  contradiction  of  the  views 
popularly  received ; but  no  exhaustive  examination  of  the 
subject  was  possible  to  any  person  unacquainted  with  the 
value  of  the  products  of  the  highest  industries,  commonly 
called  the  “ Fine  Arts ; ” and  no  one  acquainted  with  the 
nature  of  those  industries  has,  so  far  as  I know,  attempted, 
or  even  approached,  the  task. 

So  that,  to  the  date  (1863)  when  these  Essays  were  pub- 
lished, not  only  the  chief  conditions  of  the  production  of 
wealth  had  remained  unstated,  but  the  nature  of  wealth 
itself  had  never  been  defined.  “ Every  one  has  a notion, 
sufficiently  correct  for  common  purposes,  of  what  is  meant 
by  wealth,”  wrote  Mr.  Mill,  in  the  outset  of  his  treatise ; 
and  contentedly  proceeded,  as  if  a chemist  should  proceed 
to  investigate  the  laws  of  chemistry  without  endeavouring 


vi. 


PREFACE. 


•<5 


I 


■«> 


to  ascertain  the  nature  of  fii*e  or  water,  because  every  one 
had  a notion  of  them,  ‘‘  sufficiently  correct  for  common 
purposes.” 

But  even  that  apparently  indisputable  statement  was 
untrue.  There  is  not  one  person  in  ten  thousand  who  has 
a notion  sufficiently  correct,  even  for  the  commonest  pur- 
poses, of  “ what  is  meant  ” by  wealth ; still  less  of  what 
wealth  everlastingly  is,  whether  we  mean  it  or  not ; which 
it  is  the  business  of  every  student  of  economy  to  ascertain. 
AYe,  indeed,  know  (either  by  experience  or  in  imagination) 
what  it  is  to  be  able  to  provide  om-selves  with  luxurious 
food,  and  handsome  clothes ; and  if  Mr.  Mill  had  thought 
that  wealth  consisted  only  in  these,  or  in  the  means  of 
obtaining  these,  it  would  have  been  easy  for  him  to  have 
so  defined  it  with  perfect  scientific  accuracy.  But  he 
knew  better : he  knew  that  some  kinds  of  wealth  consisted 
in  the  possession,  or  power  of  obtaining,  other  things  than 
tliese  ; but,  having,  in  the  studies  of  his  life,  no  clue  to  the 
principles  of  essential  value,  he  was  compelled  to  take 
public  opinion  as  the  ground  of  his  science ; and  the  pub- 
lic, of  course,  willingly  accepted  the  notion  of  a science 
founded  on  their  opinions. 

I had,  on  the  contrary,  a singular  advantage,  not  only 
in  the  greater  extent  of  the  field  of  investigation  opened 


PKEFACE. 


vii 


to  me  by  my  daily  pursuits,  but  in  the  severity  of  some 
lessons  I accidentally  received  in  the  course  of  them. 

When,  in  the  winter  of  1851,  I was  collecting  ma- 
terials for  my  work  on  Venetian  architecture,  three 
of  the  pictures  of  Tintoret  on  the  roof  of  the  School 
of  St.  Roch  were  hanging  down  in  ragged  fragments, 
mixed  with  lath  and  plaster,  round  the  apertures 
made  by  the  fall  of  three  Austrian  heavy  shot.  The 
city  of  Venice  was  not,  it  appeared,  rich  enough  to 
repair  the  damage  that  winter ; and  buckets  were  set 
on  the  floor  of  the  upper  room  of  the  school  to  catch 
the  rain,  which  not  only  fell  directly  through  the 
shot  holes,  but  found  its  way,  owing  to  the  generally 
pervious  state  of  the  roof,  through  many  of  the  can 
vasses  of  Tintoret’s  in  other  parts  of  the  ceiling. 

It  was  a lesson  to  me,  as  I have  just  said,  no  less 
direct  than  severe ; for  I knew  already  at  that  time 
(though  I have  not  ventured  to  assert,  until  recently  at 
Oxford,)  that  the  pictures  of  Tintoret  in  Venice  were 
accurately  th^most  precious  articles  of  wealth  in  Europe,, 
b^^  the  best  existing  productions  of  human  industry. . 
Xow  at  the  time  that  three  of  them  were  thus  fluttering 
in  moist  rags  from  the  roof  they  had  adorned,  the  shops 
of  the  Rue  Eivoli  at  Paris  were,  in  obedience  to  a 


PREFACE. 


viii 

steadily-increasing  public  Demand,  beginning  to  show 
a steadily-increasing  Supply  of  elaborately-finished  and 
(coloured  lithographs,  representing  the  modern  dances  of 
delight,  among  which  the  cancan  has  since  taken  a dis- 
tinguished place. 

The  labour  employed  on  the  stone  of  one  of  these 
lithographs  is  very  much  more  than  Tintoret  was  in 
the  habit  of  giving  to  a picture  of  average  size.  Con- 
sidering labour  as  the  origin  of  value,  therefore,  the 
stone  so  highly  wrought  would  be  of  greater  value  than 
the  picture ; and  since  also  it  is  capable  of  producing  a 
large  number  of  immediately  saleable  or  exchangeable 
impressions,  for  which  the  “ demand  ” is  constant,  the 
city  of  Paris  naturally  supposed  itself,  and  on  all  hitherto 
believed  or  stated  principles  of  political  economy,  was,- 
infinitely  richer  in  the  possession  of  a large  number  of 
these  lithographic  stones,  (not  to  speak  of  countless  oil 
pictures  and  marble  carvings  of  similar  character),  than 
Yenice  in  the  possession  of-  those  rags  of  mildewed 
canvas,  fiaunting  in  the  south  wind-  and  its  salt  rain. 
And,  accordingly,  Paris  provided  (without  thought  of  the 
expense)  lofty  arcades  of  shops,  and  rich  recesses  of 
innumerable  private  apartments,  for  the  protection  of 
these  better  treasures  of  hers  from  the  weather. 


PREFACE. 


IX 


Yet,  all  the  while,  Paris  was  not  the  richer  for  these 
possessions.  Intrinsically,  the  delightful  lithographs 
were  not  wealth,  but  polar  contraries  of  wealth.  She 
was,~by  the  exact  quantity  of  labour  she  had  given  to 
produce  these,  sunk  below,  instead  of  above,  absolute 
Poverty.  They  not  only  were  false  Piches — they  were 
true  Deht^  which  had  to  be  paid  at  last — and  the  present 
aspect  of  the  Pue  Pivoli  shows  in  what  manner. 

And  the  faded  stains  of  the  Venetian  ceiling,  all  the- 
while,  were  absolute  and  inestimable  wealth.  Useless 
to  their  possessors  as  forgotten  treasure  in  a buried  city, 
they  had  in  them,  nevertheless,  the  intrinsic  and  eternal 
nature  of  wealth;  and  Venice,  still  possessing  the  ruins 
of  them,  was  a rich  city ; only,  the  V enetians  had  not  a 
notion  sufficiently  correct  even  for  the  very  common 
purpose  of  inducing  them  to  put  slates  on  a roof,  of  w'hat 
was  “ meant  by  wealth.” 

The  vulgar  economist  would  reply  that  his  science 
had  nothing  to  do  with  the  qualities  of  pictures,  but 
with  their  ex  change- value  only;  and  that  his  business 
w^as,  exclusively,  to  consider  whether  the  remains  of 
Tintoret  were  worth  as  many  ten-and-sixpences  as  the 
impressions  which  might  be  taken  from  the  lithographic 
stones. 


PEEFACE. 


But  he  would  not  venture,  without  reserve,  to  make 
such  an  answer,  if  the  example  be  taken  in  horses, 
instead  of  pictures.  The  most  dull  economist  would 
perceive,  and  admit,  that  a gentleman  who  had  a line 
stud  of  horses  was  absolutely  richer  than  one  who  had 
only  ill-bred  and  broken-winded  ones.  He  would  in- 
stinctively feel,  though  his  pseudo-science  had  never 
taught  him,  that  the  price  paid  for  the  animals,  in  either 
case,  did  not  alter  the  fact  of  their  worthj  that  the  good 
horse,  though  it  might  have  been  bought  by  chance  for  a 
few  guineas,  was  not  therefore  less  valuable,  nor  the  owner 
of  the  galled  jade  any  the  richer,  because  he  had  given  a 
hundred  for  it. 

So  that  the  economist,  in  saying  that  his  science  takes 
no  account  of  the  qualities  of  pictures,  merely  signifies 
that  he  cannot  conceive  of  any  quality  of  essential 
badness  or  goodness  existing  in  pictures ; and  that  he  is 
incapable  of  investigating  the  laws  of  wealth  in  such 
articles.  Which  is  the  fact.  But,  being  incapable  of 
defining  intrinsic  value  in  pictures,  it  follows  that  he 
must  be  equally  helpless  to  define  the  nature  of  intrinsic 
value  in  painted  glass,  or  in  painted  pottery,  or  in  pat- 
terned stuffs,  or  in  any  other  national  produce  requiring 
true  human  ingenuity.  l^ay,  though  capable  of  con- 


PREFACE. 


XI 


ceiviiig  the  idea  of  intrinsic  value  with  respect  to  beasts 
of  burden,  no  economist  has  endeavoured  to  state  the 
general  principles  of  National  Economy,  even  with  regard 
to  the  horse  or  the  ass.  And,  in  line,  the  modern  jpolitical 
economisU  hare  heen^  without  exception^  incapable  of  ap- 
prehending the  nature  of  intrinsic  value  at  all. 

And  the  first  specialty  of  the  following  treatise  consists 
in  its  giving  at  the  outset,  and  maintaining  as  the  founda- 
tion of  all  subsequent  reasoning,  a definition  of  Intrinsic 
Value,  and  Intrinsic  Contrary-of -Value ; the  negative 
power  having  been  left  by  former  writers  entirely  out  of 
account,  and  the  positive  power  left  entirely  undefined. 

But,  secondly  : the  modern  economist,  ignoring  intrinsic 
value,  and  accepting  the  popular  estimate  of  things  as  the 
only  ground  of  his  science,  has  imagined  himself  to  have 
asceHained  the  constant  laws  regulating  the  relation  of 
this  popular  demand  to  its  supply;  or,  at  least,  to  have 
proved  that  demand  and  supply  were  connected  by 
heavenly  balance,  over  which  human  foresight  had  no 
power.  I chanced,  by  singular  coincidence,  lately  to  see 
this  theory  of  the  law  of  demand  and  supply  brought  to  as 
sharp  practical  issue  in  another  great  siege,  as  I had  seen 
the  theories  of  intrinsic  value  brought,  in  the  siege  of 
V enice. 


XU 


PREFACE. 


I liad  the  honour  of  being  on  the  committee  under  the 
presidentship  of  the  Lord  Major  of  London,  for  the  vic- 
tualling of  Paris  after  her  surrender.  It  became,  at  one 
period  of  our  sittings,  a question  of  vital  importance  at 
what  moment  tlie  law  of  demand  and  supply  would  come 
into  operation,  and  what  the  operation  of  it  would  exactly 
be : the  demand,  on  this  occasion,  being  very  urgent 
indeed ; that  of  several  millions  of  people  within  a few 
horn’s  of  utter  starvation,  for  any  kind  of  food  whatsoever. 
I^evertheless,  it  was  admitted,  in  the  course  of  debate,  to  be 
probable  that  the  divine  principle  of  demand  and  supply 
might  find  itself  at  the  eleven:th  hour,  and  some  minutes 
over,  in  want  of  carts  and  horses ; and  we  ventured  so  far 
to  interfere  with  the  divine  principle  as  to  provide  carts 
and  horses,  with  haste  which  proved,  happily,  in  time  for 
the  need ; but  not  a moment  in  advance  of  it.  It  was 
farther  recognized  by  the  committee  that  the  divine  prin- 
ciple of  demand  and  supply  would  commence  its  operations 
by  charging  the  poor  of  Paris  twelve-pence  for  a penny’s 
worth  of  whatever  they  wanted ; and  would  end  its  opera- 
tions by  offering  them  twelve-pence  worth  for  a penny,  of 
whatever  they  didn’t  want.  Whereupon  it  was  concluded 
by  the  committee  that  the  tiny  knot,  on  this  special  occa- 
sion, was  scarcely  dignus  vindice,'^  by  the  divine  princi- 


PREFACE. 


xm 


pie  of  demand  and  supply : and  that  we  would  venture, 
for  once,  in  a profane  manner,  to  provide  for  the  poor  of 
Paris  what  they  wanted,  when  they  wanted  it.  Which,  to 
the  value  of  the  sums  entrusted  to  us,  it  will  be  remem- 
bered we  succeeded  in  doing. 

But  the  fact  is  that  the  so-called  “ law,”  which  was  felt 
to  be  false  in  this  case  of  extreme  exigence,  is  alike  false 
in  cases  of  less  exigence.  It  is  false  always,  and  every- 
where. ^lay,  to  such  an  extent  is  its  existence  imagi- 
nary, that  the  vulgar  economists  are  not  even  agreed 
in  their  account  of  it;  for  some  of  them  mean  by  it, 
only  that  prices  are  regulated  by  the  relation  between 
demand  and  supply,  which  is  partly  true ; and  others 
mean  that  the  relation  itself  is  one  with  the  process  of 
which  it  is  unwise  to  interfere ; a statement  which  is 
not  only,  as  in  the  above  instance,  untrue ; but  accurately 
the  reverse  of  the  truth:  for  all  wise  economy,  political 
or  domestic,  consists  in  the  resolved  maintenance  of  a 
given  relation  between  supply  and  demand,  other  than 
the  instinctive,  or  (directly)  natural,  one. 

Similarly,  vulgar  political  economy  asserts  for  a “ law  ” 
that  wages  are  determined  by  competition. 

Now  I pay  my  servants  exactly  what  wages  I think 
necessary  to  make  them  comfortable.  The  sum  is  not 


XIV 


PKEFACE. 


determined  at  all  by  competition ; but  sometimes  by  my 
notions  of  their  comfort  and  deserving,  and  sometimes 
by  theirs.  If  I were  to  become  penniless  to-morrow, 
several  of  them  would  certainly  still  serve  me  for  noth- 

ing. 

In  both  the  real  and  supposed  cases  the  so-called  “law” 
of  vulgar  political  economy  is  absolutely  set  at  defian’ce. 
But  I cannot  set  the  law  of  gravitation  at  defiance,  nor 
determine  that  in  my  house  I will  not  allow  ice  to  melt, 
when  the  temperature  is  above  thirty-two  degrees.  A 
true  law  outside  of  my  house,  will  remain  a true  one 
inside  of  it.  It_is.,not,  therefore,  a law  of  Nature  that 
wages  are  determined  by  competition.  Still  less  is  it  a 
law  of  State,  or  we  should  not  now  be  disputing  about 
it  publicly,  to  the  loss  of  many  millions  of  pounds  to  the 
country.  The  fact  which  vulgar  economists  have  been 
weak  enough  to  imagine  a law,  is  only  that,  for  the  last 
twenty  years  a number  of  very  senseless  persons  have 
attempted  to  determine  wages  in  that  manner ; and  have, 
in  a measure,  succeeded  in  occasionally  doing  so. 

Both  in  definition  of  the  elements  of  wealth,  and  in 
statement  of  the  laws  which  govern  its  distribution,  mod- 
ern political  economy  has  been  thus  absolutely  incom- 
petent, or  absolutely  false.  And  the  following  treatise 


PREFACE. 


XV 


is  not,  as  it  has  been  asserted  with  dull  pertinacity,  an 
endeavour  to  put  sentiment  in  the  place  of  science ; but , 
it  contains  the  exposure  of  what  insolently  pretended  to  ‘ 
be  a science  ; and  the  definition,  hitherto  unassailed — and 
I do  not  fear  to  assert,  unassailable  — of  the  material 
elements  with  which  political  economy  has  to  deal,  and 
the  moral  principles  in  which  it  consists  ; being  not  itself 
a science,  but  “a,  system,  of  conduct  founded  on  the 
sciences,  a^Jmpossible,  except  under  certain  conditions 
of  moral  culture.”  Which  is  only  to  say,  that  industry, 
frugality,  and  discretion,  the  three  foundations  of  econ- 
omy, are  moral  qualities,  and  cannot  be  attained  without 
moral  discipline : a fiat  truism,  the  reader  may  think, 
thus  stated,  yet  a truism  which  is  denied  both  vocifer- 
ously, and  in  all  endeavour,  by  the  entire  populace  of 
Europe ; who  are  at  present  hopeful  of  obtaining  wealth 
by  tricks  of  trade,  without  industry ; who,  possessing 
wealth,  have  lost  in  the  use  of  it  even  the  conception, — 
how  much  more  the  habit  ? — of  frugality ; and  who,  in  the 
jihoice  of  the  elements  of  wealth,  cannot  so  much  as  lose 
— since  they  have  never  hitherto  at  any  time  possessed, — 
the  faculty  of  discretion. 

[N’ow  if  the  teachers  of  the  pseudo-science  of  economy 
had  ventured  to  state  distinctly  even  the  poor  conclusions 


XVI 


PKEFACE. 


they  had  reached  on  the  subjects  respecting  which  it  is 
most  dangerous  for  a populace  to  be  indiscreet,  they 
would  have  ’ soon  found,  by  the  use  made  of  them,  which 
were  true,  and  which  false. 

But  on  main  and  vital  questions,  no  political  economist 
has  hitherto  ventured  to  state  one  guiding  principle.  I 
will  instance  three  subjects  of  universal  importance.  Na- 
tional Dress.  National  Bent.  National  Debt. 

Now  if  we  are  to  look  in  any  quarter  for  a systematic 
and  exhaustive  statement  of  the  principles  of  a given 
science,  it  must  certainly  be  from  its  Professor  at 
Cambridge. 

Take  the  last  edition  of  Professor  Fawcett’s  Manual  of 
Political  Economy^  and  forming,  first  clearly  in  youi 
mind  these  three  following  questions,  see  if  you  <?an  find 
an  answer  to  them. 

I.  Does  expenditure  of  capital  on  the  production  of 
luxurious  dress  and  furniture  tend  to  make  a nation  rich 
or  poor  ? 

II.  Does  the  payment,  by  the  nation,  of  a tax  on  its 
land,  or  on  the  produce  of  it,  to  a certain  number  of  pri- 
vate persons,  to  be  expended  by  them  as  they  please,  tend 
to  make  the  nation  rich  or  poor  ? 

III.  Does  the  payment,  by  the  nation,  for  an  indefinite 


PREFACE. 


KVll 


period,  of  interest  on  money  borrowed  from  private  per- 
sons, tend  to  make  the  nation  rich  or  poor  ? 

These  three  questions  are,  all  of  them,  perfectly  simple, 
and  primarily  vital.  Determine  these,  and  yon  have  at! 
once  a basis  for  national  conduct  in  all  important  particu-l 
lars.  Leave  them  undetermined,  and  there  is  no  limit  to 
the  distress  which  may  be  brought  upon  the  people  by  the 
cunning  of  its  knaves,  and  the  folly  of  its  multitudes. 

I will  take  the  three  in  their  order. 

I.  Dress.  The  general  impression  on  the  public  mind 
at  this  day  is,  that  the  luxury  of  the  rich  in  dress  and' 
furniture  is  a benefit  to  the  poor.  Probably  not  even  the 
blindest  of  our  political  economists  would  venture  to- 
assert  this  in  so  many  words*  But  where  do  they  assert 
the  contrary  ? During  the  entire  period  of  the  reign  of 
*the  late  Emperor  it  was  assumed  in  France,  as  the  first 
principle  of  fiscal  government,  that  a large  portion  of  the 
funds  received  as  rent  from  the  provincial  labourer  should 
l)e  expended  in  the  manufacture  of  ladies’  dresses  in 
Paris.  Where  is  the  political  economist  in  France,  or 
England,  who  ventured  to  assert  the  conclusious  of  his 
science  as  adverse  to  this  system  ? As  early  as  the  year 
1857  I had  done  my  best  to  show  the  nature  of  the  error^ 


and  to  give  warning  of  its  danger;*  but  not  one  of  the 
men  who  had  the  foolish  ears  of  the  people  intent  on  their 
words,  dared  to  follow  me  in  speaking  what  would  have 
been  an  offence  to  the  powers  of  trade ; and  the  powers  of 
trade  in  Paris  had  their  full  way  for  fourteen  years  more, 
— with  this  result,  to-day, — as  told  us  in  precise  and  curt 
terms  by  the  Minister  of  Public  Instruction, — f 

“We  have  replaced  glory  by  gold,  work  by  speculation,  faith  and 
honour  by  scepticism.  To  absolve  or  glorify  immorality ; to  make 
much  of  loose  women;  to  gratify  our  eyes  with  luxury,  our  ears  woth 
the  tales  of  orgies  ; to  aid  in  the  manoeuvres  of  public  robbers,  or  to 
applaud  them ; to  laugh  at  morality,  and  only  believe  in  success ; to 
love  nothing  but  pleasure,  adore  nothing  but  force ; to  replace  work 
with  a fecundity  of  fancies;  to  speak  without  thinking;  to  prefer 
noise  to  glory ; to  erect  sneering  into  a system,  and  lying  into  an  in- 
stitution— is  this  the  spectacle  that  we  have  seen  ? — is  this  the  society 
that  we  have  been  ? ” 

Of  course,  other  causes,  besides  the  desire  of  luxury  in 
furniture  and  dress,  have  been  at  w’ork  to  produce  such 
consequences;  but  the  most  active  cause  of  all  jus  been 
the  passion  for  these ; passion  unrebuked  by  the  clergy, 
and,  for  the  most  part,  provoked  by  economists,  as  advan- 
tageous to  commerce;  nor  need  we  think  that  such  results 
have  been  arrived  at  in  France  only;  we  are  ourselves  fol- 

* Political  Economy  of  Art.  (Smith  and  Elder,  1857,  pp.  65-76.) 

f See  report  of  speech  of  M.  Jules  Simon,  in  Pall  Mall  Gazette  of 
October  27,  1871. 


PREFACE. 


XIX 


lowing  rapidly  on  the  same  road.  France,  in  her  old  wars 
with  us,  never  was  so  fatally  our  enemy  as  she  has  been  in 
the  fellowship  of  fashion,  and  the  freedom  of  trade : nor, 
to  my  mind,  is  any  fact  recorded  of  Ass}n*ian  or  Koman 
luxury  more  ominous,  or  ghastly,  than  one  which  came  to 
my  knowledge  a few  weeks  ago,  in  England ; a respect- 
able and  well-to-do  father  and  mother,  in  a quiet  north 
country  town,  being  turned  into  the  streets  in  their  old 
age,  at  the  suit  of  their  only  daughter’s  milliner. 

II.  Rent.  The  following  account  of  the  real  nature  of 
rent  is  given,  quite  accurately,  by  Professor  Fawcett,  at 
page  112  of  the  last  edition  of  his  Political  Economy  : — 

“ Every  country  has  probably  been  subjugated,  and  grants  of  van- 
quished territory  were  the  ordinary  rewards  which  the  conquering 
chief  bestovN^ed  upon  his  more  distinguished  followers.  Lands  ob- 
tained by  force  had  to  be  defended  by  force ; and  before  law  had 
asserted  her  supremacy,  and  property  was  made  secure,  no  baron  was 
able  to  retain  his  possessions,  unless  those  who  lived  on  his  estates 
were  prepared  to  defend  them,  . . . * As  property  became  secure, 

and  landlords  felt  that  the  power  of  the  State  would  protect  them  in 
all  the  rights  of  property,  every  vestige  of  these  feudal  tenures  was 
abolished,  and  the  relation  between  landlord  and  tenant  has  thus  be- 
come purely  commercial.  A landlord  offers  his  land  to  any  one  who 
is  willing  to  take  it ; he  is  anxious  to  receive  the  highest  rent  he  can  ’ 
obtain.  What  are  the  principles  which  regulate  the  rent  which  may 
thus  be  paid  ? ” 

* The  omitted  sentences  merely  amplify  the  statement ; they  in  no 
wise  modify  it. 


XX 


PREFACE. 


These  principles  the  Professor  goes  on  contentedly  to 
investigate,  never  appearing  to  contemplate  for  an  instant 
the  possibility  of  the  first  principle  in  the  whole  business 
— the  maintenance,  by  force,  of  the  possession  of  land  ob- 
tained by  force,  being  ever  called  in  question  by  any 
human  mind.  It  is,  nevertheless,  the  nearest  task  of  our 
day  to  discover  how  far  original  theft  may  be  justly  en- 
countered by  reactionary  theft,  or  whether  reactionary 
theft  be  indeed  theft  at  all ; and  farther,  what,  excluding 
either  original  or  corrective  theft,  are  the  just  conditions 
of  the  possession  of  land. 

III.  Debt.  Long  since,  wLen,  a mere  boy,  I used  to  sit 
silently  listening  to  the  conversation  of  the  London  mer- 
chants who,  all  of  them  good  and  sound  men.  of  business, 
were  wont  occasionally  to  meet  round  my  fathers  dining- 
table  ; nothing  used  to  surprise  me  more  than  the  convic- 
tion openly  expressed  by  some  of  the  soundest  and  most 
cautious  of  them,  that  “if  there  were  no  l^ational  debt 
they  would  not  know  what  to  do  with  their  money,  or 
where  to  place  it  safely.”  At  the  399th  page  of  his  Man- 
ual, you  will  find  Professor  Fawcett  giving  exactly  the 
same  statement. 

“ In  our  own  country,  this  certainty  against  risk  of  loss  is  provided 
by  the  public  funds ; 


PREFACE. 


XXI 


Riid  again,  as  on  the  question  of  rent,  the  Professor  pro- 
ceeds, without  appearing  for  an  instant  to  be  troubled  by 
any  misgiving  that  there  may  be  an  essential  difference 
between  tlie  effects  on  national  prosperity  of  a Govern- 
ment paying  interest  on  money  which  it  spent  in  fire- 
works fifty  years  ago,  and  of  a Government  paying  inter- 
est on  money  to  be  employed  to-day  on  productive 
labour. 

That  difference,  which  the  reader  will  find  stated  and 
examined  at  length,  in  §§  127-129  of  this  volume,  it  is 
the  business  of  economists,  before  approaching  any  other 
question  relating  to  government,  fully  to  explain.  And 
the  paragraphs  to  which  I refer,  contain,  I believe,  the 
only  definite  statement  of  it  hitherto  made. 

The  practical  result  of  the  absence  of  any  such  state- 
ment is,  that  capitalists,  when  they  do  not  know  what  to 
do  with  their  money,  persuade  the  peasants,  in  various 
countries,  that  the  said  peasants  want  guns  to  shoot  each 
other  with.  The  peasants  accordingly  borrow  guns,  out 
of  the  manufacture  of  which  the  capitalists  get  a per- 
centage, and  men  of  science  much  amusement  and  credit. 
Then  the  peasants  shoot  a certain  number  of  each  other, 
until  they  get  tired ; and  burn  each  other’s  homes  down 
in  various  places.  Then  they  put  the  guns  back  into 


XXll 


PEEFACE. 


towers,  arsenals,  &c.,  in  ornamental  patterns ; (and  the 
victorious  party  put  also  some  ragged  flags  in  churches). 
And  then  the  capitalists  tax  both,  annually,  ever  after- 
wards, to  pay  interest  on  the  loan  of  the  guns  and 
gunpowder.  And  that  is  what  capitalists  call  “ knowing 
w'hat  to  do  with  their  money and  what  commercial  men 
in  general  call  “ practical  ” as  opposed  to  “ sentimental  ” 
Political  Economy. 

Eleven  years  ago,  in  the  summer  of  1860,  perceiving 
then  fully,  (as  Carlyle  had  done  long  before),  what 
distress  was  about  to  come  on  the  said  populace  of  Europe 
through  these  errors  of  their  teachers,  I began  to  do  the 
' best  I might,  to  combat  them,  in  the  series  of  papers  for 
the  Cornhill  Magazine^  since  published  under  the  title  of 
\JJnto  The  editor  of  the  Magazine  was  my 

friend,  and  ventured  the  insertion  of  the  three  first 
essays;  but  the  outcry  against  them  became  then  too 
strong  for  any  editor  to  endure,  and  he  wrote  to  me,  with 
great  discomfort  to  himself,  and  many  apologies  to  me, 
that  the  Magazine  must  only  admit  one  Economical  Essay 
more. 

I made,  with  his  permission,  the  last  one  longer  than 
the  rest,  and  gave  it  blunt  conclusion  as  well  as  I could — • 
and  so  the  book  now"  stands;  but,  as  I had  taken  not  a 


PREFACE.  Xxiii 

little  pains  with  the  Essays,  and  knew  that  they  contained 
better  work  than  most  of  my  former  writings,  and  more 
important  truths  than  all  of  them  put  together,  this 
violent  reprobation  of  them  by  the  Cornhill  public  set  me 
still  more  gravely  thinking ; and,  after  turning  the  matter 
hither  and  thither  in  my  mind  for  two  years  more,  I 
resolved  to  make  it  the  central  work  of  my  life  to  write 
an  exliaustive  treatise  on  Political  Economy.  It  would 
not  have  been  begun,  at  that  time,  however,  had  not  the 
editor  of  Fraser’s  Magazine  written  to  me,  saying  that  he 
believed  there  was  something  in  my  theories,  and  would 
risk  the  admission  of  what  I chose  to  write  on  this  danger- 
ous subject;  whereupon,  cautiously,  and  at  intervals, 
during  the  winter  of  1862-63,  I sent  him,  and  he  ventured 
to  print,  the  preface  of  the  intended  work,  divided  into 
four  chapters.  Then,  though  the  Editor  had  not  wholly 
lost  courage,  the  Publisher  indignantly  interfered ; and 
the  readers  of  Fraser^  as  those  of  the  Cornhill^  were  pro- 
tected, for  that  time,  from  farther  disturbance  on  my  part. 
Subsequently,  loss  of  health,  family  distress,  and  various 
untoward  chances,  prevented  my  proceeding  with  the  body 
of  the  book  ; — seven  years  have  passed  ineffectually ; and 
I am  now  fain  to  reprint  the  Preface  by  itself,  under  the 
title  which  I intended  for  the  whole. 


XXIV 


PREFACE. 


Not  discontentedly  ; being,  at  this  time  of  life,  resigned 
to  the  sense  of  failure ; and  also,  because  the  preface  is 
complete  in  itself  as  a body  of  definitions,  which  I now 
require  for  reference  in  the  course  of  my  Letters  to  Work- 
men / by  which  also,  in  time,  I trust  less  formally  to 
accomplish  the  chief  purpose  of  Munera  Pulvei^is^  practi- 
<5ally  summed  in  the  two  paragraj)hs  27  and  28 : namely, 
to  examine  the  moral  results  and  possible  rectifications  of 
the  laws  of  distribution  of  wealth,  which  have  prevailed 
hitherto  without  debate  among  men.  Laws  which  ordi- 
nary economists  assume  to  be  inviolable,  and  which  ordi- 
nary socialists  imagine  to  be  on  the  eve  of  total  abroga- 
tion. But  they  are  both  alike  deceived.  The  laws  which 
at  present  regulate  the  possession  of  wealth  are  unjust, 
because  the  motivfisjwl^h  provoke  jto  its  attainment  are 
impur^  but  no  socialism  can  effect  their  abrogation, 
unless  it  can  abrogate  al^o  covetousness  and  p>ri^  which 
it  is  by  no  means  yet  in  the  way  of  doing.  Nor  can  the 
change  be,  in  any  case,  to  the  extent  that  has  been  ima- 
gined. Extremes  of  luxury  may  be  forbidden,  and  agony 
of  penury  relieved ; but  nature  intends,  and  the  utmost 
efi-orts  of  socialism  will  not  hinder  the  fulfilment  of  hei* 
intention,  that  a provident  person  shall  always  be  richer 
than  a spendthrift ; and  an  ingenious  one  more  comforta- 


PREFACE. 


XXV 


ble  than  a fool.  But,  indeed,  the  adjustment  of  the 
possession  of  the  products  of  industry  depends  more  oii 
their  nature  than  their  quantity,  and  on  wise  determination 
therefore  of  the  aims  of  industry.  A nation  which  desires 
true  wealth,  desires  it  moderately,  and  can  therefore  dis- 
tribute it  with  kindness,  and  possess  it  with  pleasure ; but 
one  which  desires  false  wealth,  desires  it  immoderately, 
and  can  neither  dispense  it  with  justice,  nor  enjoy  it  in 
peace. 

Therefore,  needing,  constantly  in  my  present  work,  to 
refer  to  the  definitions  of  true  and  false  wealth  given  in 
the  following  Essays,  I republish  them  with  careful  re- 
visal.  They  were  written  abroad  ; partly  at  Milan,  partly 
during  a winter  residence  on  the  south-eastern  slope  of  the 
Mont  Saleve,  near  Geneva ; and  sent  to  London  in  as 
ble  MS.  as  I could  write ; but  I never  revised  the  press 
sheets,  and  have  been  obliged,  accordingly,  now  to  amend 
the  text  here  and  there,  or  correct  it  in  unimportant  par- 
ticulars. Wherever  any  modification  has  involved  change 
in  the  sense,  it  is  enclosed  in  square  brackets  ; and  what 
few  explanatory  comments  I have  felt  it  necessary  to  add, 
have  been  indicated  in  the  same  manner.  Ko  explanatory 
comments,  I regret  to  perceive,  will  suffice  to  remedy  the 
mischief  of  my  affected  concentration  of  language,  into 


XXVI 


PREFACE. 


the  habit  of  which  I fell  bj  thinking  too  long  over  parti- 
cular passages,  in  many  and  many  a solitary  walk  towards 
the  mountains  of  Bonneville  or  Annecy,  But  I never 
intended  the  book  for  anything  else  than  a dictionary  of 
reference,  and  that  for  earnest  readers ; who  will,  I have 
good  hope,  if  they  find  what  they  want  in  it,  forgive  the 
affectedly  curt  expressions. 

The  Essays,  as  originally  published,  were,  as  I have  just 
stated,  four  in  number.  I have  now,  more  conveniently, 
divided  the  wEole  into  six  chapters ; and  (as  I purpose 
throughout  this  edition  of  my  works)  numbered  the  par- 
agraphs. 

I inscribed  the  first  volume  of  this  series  to  the  friend 
Avho  aided  me  in  chief  sorrow.  Let  me  inscribe  the 
second  to  the  friend  and  guide  who  has  urged  me  to  all 
chief  labour,  Thomas  Carlyle. 

I would  that  some  better  means  were  in  my  power  of 
showing  reverence  to  the  man  wlio  alone,  of  all  our  mas- 
ters of  literature,  has  written,  without  thought  of  himself, 
what  he  knew  it  to  be  needful  for  the  people  of  his  time 
to  hear,  if  the  will  to  hear  were  in  them  : whom,  therefore, 
as  the  time  draws  near  when  his  task  must  be  ended,  Be- 
publican  and  Free-thoughted  England  assaults  with  imj)a- 


PREFACE. 


XX  VI I 


tient  reproach ; and  out  of  the  abyss  of  her  cowardice  in 
policy  and  dishonour  in  trade,  sets  the  hacks  of  her  litera- 
ture to  speak  evil,  grateful  to  her  ears,  of  the  Solitary 
Teacher  who  has  asked  her  to  be  brave  for  the  help  of 
Man,  and  just,  for  the  love  of  God. 


Denmark  Hill, 

'25th  November,  1871. 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


“TE  MARIS  ET  TERR.®  NUMEROQUE  CARENTIS  AREN® 

Mensorem  cohibent,  Archyta, 

PULVERIS  EXIGTJI  PROPE  LITUS  PARVA  MaTINITM 

Munera.” 


C ir  A P T E E I. 

DEFINITIONS. 

1.  As  domestic  economy  regulates  the  acts  and  habits 
of  a household,  Political  economy  regulates  those  of  a 
society  or  State,  with  reference  to  the  means  of  its  main- 
tenance. 

P(d^al  economyJs  neither  an  art  nor  a science ; but 
a_  syirtem  of  conduct  and  legislature,  founded  on  the 
sciences,  directing  the  arts,  and  impossible,  except  under 
certain  conditions  of  moral  culture. 

2.  The  study  which  lately  in  England  has  been  called 
Political  Economy  is  in  reality  nothing  more  than  the 
investigation  of  some  accidental  phenomena  of  modern 
commercial  operations,  nor  has  it  been  true  in  its  investi- 
gation even  of  these.  It  has  no  connection  whatever  with 

political  economy,  as  understood  and  treated  of  by  the 
1 


MUNEEA  PELVEEIS. 


2 

great  thinkers  of  past  ages  ; and  as  long  as  its  unscholarly 
and  undefined  statements  are  allowed  to  pass  under  the 
same  name,  every  word  written  on  the  subject  by  those 
thinkers — and  chiefiy  the  words  of  Plato,  Xenophon, 
Cicero  and  Bacon — -niust  be  nearly  useless  to  mankind. 
The  reader  must  not,  therefore,  be  surprised  at  the  care 
and  insistance  with  which  I have  retained  the  literal  and 
earliest  sense  of  all  important  terms  used  in  these  papers ; 
for  a word  is  usually  well  made  at  the  time  it  is  first 
wanted ; its  youngest  meaning  has  in  it  the  full  strength  of 
its  youth ; subsequent  senses  are  commonly  warped  or 
weakened;  and  as  all  careful  thinkers  are  sure  to  have 
used  their  words  accurately,  the  first  condition,  in  order  to 
be  able  to  avail  ourselves  of  their  sayings  at  all,  is  firm 
definition  of  terms. 

3.  By  the  “maintenance”  of  a State  is  to  be  understood 
the  support  of  its  population  in  healthy  and  happy  life ; 
and  the  increase  of  their  numbers,  so  far  as  that  increase 
is  consistent  with  their  happiness.  It  is  not  tlie  object  of 
political  economy  to  increase  the  numbers  of  a nation  at 
the  cost  of  common  health  or  comfort;  nor  to  increase 
indefinitely  the  comfort  of  individuals,  by  sacrifice  of  sui- 
rounding  lives,  or  possibilities  of  life. 

4.  The  assumption  which  lies  at  the  root  of  nearly  all 
erroneous  reasoning  on  political  economy,— namely,  that 
its  object  is  to  accumulate  money  or  exchangeable  pro- 
perty,— may  be  shown  in  a few  words  to  be  without  foun- 
dation. For  no  economist  would  admit  national  economy 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


3 


to  be  legitimate  wbicli  proposed  to  itself  only  the  building 
of  a pyramid  of  gold.  lie  would  declare  the  gold  to  be 
wasted,  were  it  to  remain  in  the  monumental  form,  and 
would  say  it  ouglit  to  be  employed.  But  to  what  end  ? 
Either  it  must  be  used  only  to  gain  more  gold,  and  build  j 
a larger  pyramid,  or  for  some  purpose  other  than  the  gain-:/ 
ing  of  gold.  And  this  other  purpose,  however  at  first 
apprehended,  will  be  found  to  resolve  itself  finally  into 
the  service  of  man that  is  to  say,  the  extension,  defence, 
or  comfort  of  his  life.  The  golden  pyramid  may  perhaps 
be  providently  built,  perhaps  improvidently ; but  the 
wisdom  or  folly  of  the  accumulation  can  only  be  deter- 
mined by  our  having  first  clearly  stated  the  aim  of  all 
econon^,  namely,  the  exten^on  of  life. 

If  the  accumulation  of  money,  or  of  exchangeable 
property,  were  a certain  means  of  extending  existence,  it 
would  be  useless,  in  discussing  economical  questions,  to 
fix  our  attention  upon  the  more  distant  object — life — in- 
stead of  the  immediate  one— money.  But  it  is  not  so. 
Money  may  sometimes  be  accumulated  at  the  cost  of  life, 
or  by  limitations  of  it;  that  is  to  say,  either  by  hastening 
the  deaths  of  men,  or  preventing  their  births.  It  is 
therefore  necessary  to  keep  clearly  in  view  the  ultimate 
object  of  economy;  and  to  determine  the  expediency  of 
minor  operations  with  reference  to  that  ulterior  end. 

5.  It  has  been  just  stated  that  the  object  of  political 
economy  is  the  continuance  not  only  of  life,  but  of  healthy 
and  happy  life.  But  all  true  happiness  is  both  a conse- 


4 


MUNEKA  PULYEEIS. 


qnence  and  cause  of  life : it  is  a sign  of  its  vigor,  and 
source  of  its  continuance.  All  true  suffering  is  in  like 
manner  a consequence  and  cause  of  death.  I shall  there- 
fore, in  future,  use  the  word  “ Life”  singly : but  let  it 
he  understood  to  include  in  its  signification  the  happiness 
and  power  of  the  entire  human  nature,  body  and  soul. 

6.  That  human  nature,  as  its  Creator  made  it,  and 
maintains  it  wherever  His  laws  are  observed,  is  entirely 
liarmonious.  Ho  physical  error  can  be  more  profound,  no 
moral  error  more  dangerous,  than  that  involved  in  the 
monkish  doctrine  of  the  opposition  of  body  to  soul.  Ho 
soul  can  be  perfect  in  an  imperfect  body : no  body  per- 
fect without  perfect  soul.  Every  right  action  and  tme 
thought  sets  the  seal  of  its  beauty,  on  person  and  face ; 
every  wrong  action  and  foul  thought  its  seal  of  distortion ; 
and  the  various  aspects  of  humanity  might  be  read  as 
plainly  as  a printed  history,  were  it  not  that  the  impres- 
sions are  so  complex  that  it  must  always  in  some  cases 
(and,  in  the  present  state  of  our  knowledge,  in  all  cases) 
be  impossible  to  decipher  them  completely,  nevertheless, 
the  face  of  a consistently  just,  and  of  a consistently  unjust 
1 person,  may  always  be  rightly  distinguished  at  a glance ; 

' and  if  the  qualities  are  continued  by  descent  through  a 
generation  or  two,  there  arises  a complete  distinction  of 
race.  Both  moral  and  physical  qualities  are  communi- 
cated by  descent,  far  more  than  they  can  be  developed  by 
education;  (though  both  may  be  destroyed  by  want  of 
education),  and  there  is  as  yet  no  ascertained  limit  to  the 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


5 


nobleness  of  person  and  mind  which  the  human  creature 
may  attain,  by  perseyeriiig  observance  of  the  laws  of  God 
respecting  its  birth  and  training. 

7.  We  must  therefore  yet  farther  define  the  aim  of 
political  economy  to  be  “ The  multiplication  of  human 
life  at  the  highest  standard.”  It  might  at  first  seem  ques- 
tionable whether  we  should  endeavour  to  maintain  a small 
number  of  persons  of  the  highest  type  of  beauty  and 
intelligence,  or  a larger  number  of  an  inferior  class.  But 
I shall  be  able  to  show  in  the  sequel,  that  the  way  to  main- 
tain the  largest  number  is  first  to  aim  at  the  highest  stand- 
ard. Determine  the  noblest  type  of  man,  and  aim  simply 
at  maintaining  the  largest  possible  number  of  persons  of 
that  class,  and  it  will  be  found  that  the  largest  possible 
number  of  every  healthy  subordinate  class  must  necessarily 
be  produced  also. 

8.  The  perfect  type  of  manhood,  as  just  stated,  involves 
the  perfections  (whatever  we  may  hereafter  determine 
these  to  be)  of  his  body,  affections,  and  intelligence.  The  • 
material  things,  therefore,  which  it  is  the  object  of  politi- 
cal economy  to  produce  and  use,  (or  accumulate  for  use,)^ 
are  things  which  serve  either  to  sustain  and  comfort  the 
body,  or  exercise  rightly  the  affections  and  form  the  intelli- 
gence.* Whatever  truly  serves  either  of  these  purposes 
is  “useful”  to  man,  wholesome,  healthful,  helpful,  or 
holy.  By  seeking  such  things,  man  prolongs  and  increases- 
his  life  upon  the  earth. 


See  Appendix  I. 


6 


MUNERA  PULVEBIS. 


On  the  other  hand,  whatever  does  not  serve  either  of 
these  purposes, — much  more  whatever  counteracts  them, 
— is  in  like  manner  useless  to  man,  unwholesome,  unhelp- 
ful, or  unholy  ; and  by  seeking  such  things  man  shortens 
and  diminishes  his  life  upon  the  earth. 

9.  And  neither  with  respect  to  things  useful  or  useless 
can  man’s  estimate  of  them  alter  their  nature.  Certain 
substances  being  good  for  his  food,  and  others  noxious  to 
him,  what  he  thinks  or  wishes  respecting  them  can  neither 
change,  nor  prevent,  their  power.  If  he  eats  corn,  he  will 
live ; if  nightshade,  he  will  die.  If  he  produce  or  make 
good  and  beautiful  things,  they  Re-Create  him  : (note 
the  solemnity  and  weight  of  the  word) ; if  bad  and  ugly 


things,  they  will  “ corrupt”  or.“  break^n p ” — tha^is, 

in  the  exact  degree  of  their  power.  Kill  him.  For  every 
hour  of  labour,  however  enthusiastic  or  well  intended, 
which  he  spends  for  that  which  is  not  bread,  so  much 
possibility  of  life  is  lost  to  him.  His  fancies,  likings, 
beliefs,  however  brilliant,  eager,  or  obstinate,  are  of  no 
avail  if  they  are  set  on  a false  object.  Of  all  that  he  has 
laboured  for,  the  eternal  law  of  heaven  and  earth  measures 
out  to  him  for  reward,  to  the  utmost  atom,  that  part  which 
he  ought  to  have  laboured  for,  and  withdraws  fi-om  him 
(or  enforces  on  him,  it  may  be)  inexorably,  that  part  which 
he  ought  not  to  have  laboured  for  until,  on  his  summer 
threshing-floor,  stands  his  heap  of  corn;  little  or  much, 
not  according  to  his  labour,  but  to  his  discretion.  Ho 
commercial  arrangements,”  no  painting  of  surfaces,  nor 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


7 


alloying  of  substances,  will  avail  him  a pennyweight. 
Kature  asks  of  him  calmly  and  inevitably,  What  have  you 
found,  or  formed — the  right  thing  or  the  wrong  ? By  the 
right  thing  you  shall  live ; by  the  wrong  you  shall  die. 

10.  To  thoughtless  persons  it  seems  otherwise.  The 
world  looks  to  them  as  if  they  could  cozen  it  out  of  some 
ways  and  means  of  life.  But  they  cannot  cozen  it  : they 
can  oidy  cozen  their  neighbours.  The  world  is  not  to  be 
cheated  of  a grain  ; not  so  much  as  a breath  of  its  air  can 
be  drawn  surreptitiously.  For  every  piece  of  wise  work 
done,  so  much  life  is  granted ; for  every  piece  of  foolish 
work,  nothing ; for  every  piece  of  wicked  work,  so  much 
death  is  allotted.  This  is  as  sure  as  the  courses  of  day  and 
night.  But  when  the  means  of  life  are  once  produced, 
men,  by  their  v'arious  struggles  and  industries  of  accumu- 
lation or  exchange,  may  variously  gather,  waste,  restrain, 
or  distribute  them ; necessitating,  in  proportion  to  the 
waste  or  restraint,  accurately,  so  much  more  death. 
The  rate  and  range  of  additional  death  are  measured  by 
the  rate  and  range  of  waste ; and  are  inevitable  ; — the  oidy 
question  (determined  mostly  by  fraud  in  peace,  and  force 
in  war)  is,  IVlio  is  to  die,  and  how  ? 

11.  Such  being  the  everlasting  law  of  human  existence, 
the  essential  work  of  the  political  economist  is  to  detei*- 
mine  what  are  in  reality  useful  or  life-giving  things,  and 
by  what^'degrees  and  kinds  of  labour  they  are  attainable 
and  distributable.  This  investigation  divides  itself  under 
three  great  heads ; — the  studies,  namely,  of  the  phe- 


8 


MUNEKA  PULVEKIS. 


nomena,  first,  of  Wealth  ; secondly,  of  Money  ; and 
thirdly,  of  Eiches. 

These  terms  are  often  used  as  synonymous,  but  they 
signify  entirely  different  things.  “Wealth”  consists  of 
things  in  themselves  valuable ; “ Money,”  of  documentary 
claims  to  the  possession  of  such  things ; and  “ Eiches  ” is 
a relative  term,  expressing  the  magnitude  of  the  posses- 
sions of  one  person  or  society  as  compared  with  those  of 
other  persons  or  societies. 

The  study  of  Wealth  is  a province  of  natural  science 
it  deals  with  the  essential  properties  of  things. 

The  study  of  Money  is  a province  of  commercial  sci- 
ence i— it  deals  with  conditions  of  engagement  and  ex- 
change. 

The  study  of  Eiches  is  a province  of  moral  science : — 
it  deals  with  the  due  relations  of  men  to  each  other  in 
regard  of  material  possessions;  and  with  the  just  laws  of. 
their  association  for  purposes  of  labour. 

I shall  in  this  first  chapter  shortly  sketch  out  the  range 
of  subjects  which  will  come  before  us  as  we  follow  these 
three  branches  of  inquiry. 

12.  And  first  of  Weai.th'  which,  it  has  been  said, 
consists  of  things  essentially  valuable.  We  now,  there- 
fore, need  a definition  of  “value.” 

“Table”  signifies  the  strength,  or  “availing”  of  any- 
thing towards  the  sustaining  of  life,  and  is  always  two- 
fold ; that  is  to  say,  primarily,  intrinsic,  and  secondarily, 
effectual. 


MUNERA  rULVERIS. 


9 


The  reader  must,  by  anticipation,  be  warned  against 
confusing  yalue  with  cost,  or  with  price. 
l^fe-giving  jpower  of  anything  / cost^  the  quantity  of 
labour  required  to  jproduce  it  / jprice^  the  quantity  of 
labour  which  its  possessor  will  take  in  exchange  for  it.^ 

Cost  and  price  are  commercial  conditions,  to  be  studied 
under  the  head  of  money. 

1 3.  Intrinsic  value  is  the  absolute  power  of  anything 

to  support  life.  A sheaf  of  wheat  of  given  quality  and 
w^eight  has  in  it  a measurable  power  of  sustaining  the 
substance  of  the  body ; a cubic  foot  of  pure  air,  a fixed 
power  of  sustaining  its  w^armth ; and  a cluster  of  flowei*s 
of  given  beauty  a fixed  power  of  enlivening  or  animating 
the  senses  and  heart.  • 

It  does  not  in  the  least  affect  the  intrinsic  value  of  the\  n 
wheat,  the  air,  or  the  flowers,  that  men  refuse  or  despise  ] 
them.  Used  or  not,  their  own  power  is  in  them,  and  thaw  , 

particular  power  is  in  nothing  else. 

14.  But  in  order  that  this  value  of  theirs  may  become 
effectual,  a certain  state  is  necessary  in  the  recipient  of  it. 

The  digesting,  breathing,  and  perceiving  functions  must 
be  perfect  in  the  human  creature  before  the  food,  air,  or 
flowers  can  become  of  ti^ir  full  value  to  it.  The  produc-  U 
tion  of  effectual  value,  therefore,  always  involves  two 
needs  first,  the  production  of  a thing  essentially  usefuli 
hen  die  pyrod^uction  of  the  capacity  to  use  it.  pWliere  the 


/ 


^ 4 


[*  Observe  these  definitions, — they  are  of  much  importance, — and 
connect  with  them  the  sentences  in  italics  on  this  and  the  next  page.  ] 

1* 


10 


MUNEEA  PULVERIS. 


intrinsic  value  and  acceptant  capacity  come  together  there 
is  Effectual  value,  or  vrealth;  where  there  is  either  no 
intrinsic  value,  or  no  acceptant  capacity,  there  is  no 
effectual  value ; that  is  to  say,  no  wealth.  A horse  is  no, 
wealth  to  us  if  we  cannot  ride,  nor  a picture  if  we  cannot 
see,  noT.,  can  any  noble  thing  be  wealthy  except  to  a noble 
person.  As  the  aptness  of  the  user  increases,  the  effectual 
value  of  the  thing  used  increases;  and  in  its  entirety 
can  co-exist  only  with  perfect  skill  of  use,  and  fitness  of 
nature. 

15.  Yaluable  material  things  may  he  conveniently  re- 
ferred to  five  heads : 

(i.)  Land,  with  its  associated  air,  water,  and  organisms. 

(ii.)  Houses,  furniture,  and  instruments. 

(iii.)  Stored  or  prepared  food,  medicine,  and  articles  of 
bodily  luxury,  including  clothing. 

(iv.)  Books. 

(v.)  Works  of  art. 

The  conditions  of  value  in  these  things  are  briefly  as 
follows : — 

16.  (i.)  Land.  Its  value  is  twofold ; first,  as  producing 
food  and  mechanical  power;  secondly,  as  an  object  of 
sight  and  thought,  producing  intellectual  power. 

Its  value,  as  a means  of  producing  food  and  mechanical 
power,  varies  with  its  form  (as  mountain  or  plain),  with 
its  substance  (in,  soil  or  mineral  contents),  and  with  its 
climate.  All  these  conditions  of  intrinsic  value  must  be 
known  and  complied  with  by  the  men  who  have  to  deal 


MUNERA  PULVERI8. 


11 


with  it,  in  order  to  give  effectual  value  ; but  at  any  given 
time  and  place,  the  intrinsic  value  is  fixed  : such  and  such 
a piece  of  land,  with  its  associated  lakes  and  seas,  rightly 
treated  in  surface  and  substance,  can  produce  precisely 
so  much  food  and  power,  and  no  more. 

The  second  element  of  value  in  land  being  its  beauty, 
united  with  such  conditions  of  space  and  form  as  are  ne- 
cessary for  exercise,  and  for  fullness  of  animal  life,  land 
of  the  highest  value  in  these  respects  will  be  that  lying  in 
temperate  climates,  and  boldly  varied  in  form  ; removed 
from  unhealthy  or  dangerous  influences  (as  of  miasm  or 
volcano) ; and  capable  of  sustaining  a rich  fauna  and 
flora.  Such  .land,  carefully  tended  by  the  hand  of  man, 
so  far  as  to  remove  from  it  unsightlinesses  and  evidences 
of  decay,  guarded  from  violence,  and  inhabited,  under 
man’s  affectionate  protection,  by  every  kind  of  living 
creature  that  can  occupy  it  in  peace,  is  the  most  precious 
property.’’  that  human  beings  can  possess. 

17.  (ii.)  Buildings,  furniture,  and  instruments. 

The  value  of  buildings  consists,  flrst,  in  permanent 
strength,  with  convenience  of  form,  of  size,  and  of 
position ; so  as  to  render  employment  peaceful,  social 
fintercourse  easy,  temperature  and  air  healthy.  The  ad- 
visable or  possible  magnitude  of  cities  and  mode  of  their 
distribution  in  squares,  streets,  courts,  &c. ; the  relative 
value  of  sites  of  land,  and  the  modes  of  structure  which 
are  healthiest  and  most  permanent,  have  to  be  studied 
under  this  head. 


12 


MUNEEA  PULVEEIS. 


The  value  of  buildings  consists  secondly  in  historical 
association,  and  architectural  beauty,  of  which  we  have  to 
examine  the  influence  on  manners  and  life. 

The  value  of  instruments  consists,  flrst,  in  their  power 
of  shortening  labour,  or  otherwise  accomplishing  what 
human  strength  unaided  could  not.  The  kinds  of  work 
which  are  severally  best  accomplished  by  hand  or  by 
^machine  ; — the  effect  of  machinery  in  gathering  and  mul- 
tiplying population,  and  its  influence  on  the  minds  and 
bodies  of  such  population ; together  with  the  conceivable 
uses  of  machinery  on  a colossal  scale  in  accomplishing 
' mighty  and  useful  works,  hitherto  unthought  of,  such  as 
the  deepening  of  large  river  channels ; — changing  the  sur- 
face of  mountainous  districts ; — ^irrigating  tracts  of  desert 
in  the  torrid  zone; — breaking  up,  and  thus  rendering 
capable  of  quicker  fusion,  edges  of  ice  in  the  northern 
and  southern  Arctic  seas,  &c.,  so  rendering  parts  of  the 
earth  habitable  which  hitherto  have  been  lifeless,  are  to 
be  studied  under  this  head. 

The  value  of  instruments  is,  secondarily,  in  their  aid  to 
abstract  sciences.  The  degree  in  which  the  multiplica- 
tion of  such  instruments  should  be  encouraged,  so  as  to 
make  them,  if  large,  easy  of  access  to  numbers  (as  costly 
telescopes),  or  so  cheap  as  that  they  might,  in  a service- 
able form,  become  a common  part  of  the  furniture  of 
households,  is  to  be  considered  under  this  head.* 

[ * I cannot  now  recast  these  sentences,  pedantic  in  their  generaliza- 
tion, and  intended  more  for  index  than  statement,  but  I must  guard 


MUNERA  PULVERI8. 


13 


18.  (iii.)  Food,  medicine,  and  articles  of  luxury.  Under 
tliis  head  we  shall  have  to  examine  the  possible  methods 
of  obtaining  pure  food  in  such  security  and  equality  of 
supply  as  to  avoid  both  waste  and  famine : then  the  econ- 
omy of  medicine  and  just  range  of  sanitary  law : finally 
the  economy  of  luxury,  partly  an  gesthetic  and  partly  an 
ethical  question. 

19.  (iv.)  Books.  The  value  of  these  consists. 

First,  in  their  power  of  preserving  and  communicating 
the  knowledge  of  facts. 

Secondly,  in  their  power  of  exciting  vital  or  noble  emo- 
tion and  intellectual  action.  They  have  also  their  corre- 
sponding negative  powers  of  disguising  and  effacing  the 
memory  of  facts,  and  killing  the  noble  emotions,  or 
exciting  base  ones.  Under  these  two  heads  we  have  to 
consider  the  economical  and  educational  value,  positive 
and  negative,  of  literature  the  means  of  producing  and 
educating  good  authors,  and  the  means  and  advisability 
of  rendering  good  books  generally  accessible,  and  direct- 
ing the  reader’s  choice  to  them. 

20.  (v.)  Works  of  art.  The  value  of  these  is  of  the 
same  nature  as  that  of  books  ; but  the  laws  of  their  pro- 
duction and  possible  modes  of  distribution  are  very  differ- 
ent, and  require  separate  examination. 

the  reader  from  thinking  that  I ever  wish  for  cheapness  by  bad  quality. 
A poor  boy  need  not  always  learn  mathematics;  but,  if  you  set  him  to 
do  so,  have  the  farther  kindness  to  give  him  good  compasses,  not  cheap 
ones,  whose  points  bend  like  lead.] 


14 


MUNERA  PTJLVERIS. 


21.  II. — Money.  Under  this  head,  we  shall  have  to 
examine  the  laws  of  currency  and  exchange  ; of  which  I 
will  note  here  the  first  principles. 

Money  has  been  inaccurately  spoken  of  as  merely  a 
means  of  exchange.  But  it  is  far  more  than  this.  It  is  a 
documentary  expression  of  legal  claim.  It  is  not  wealth, 
but  a documentary  claim  to  wealth,  being  the  sign  of  the 
relative  quantities  of  it,  or  of  the  labour  producing  it,  to 
which,  at  a given  time,  persons,  or  societies,  are  entitled. 

If  all  the  money  in  the  world,  notes  and  gold,  were 
destroyed  in  an  instant,  it  would  leave  the  world  neither 
richer  nor  poorer  than  it  was.  But  it  would  leave  the 
individual  inhabitants  of  it  in  different  relations. 

Money  is,  therefore,  correspondent  in  its  nature  to  the 
title-deed  of  an  estate.  Though  the  deed  be  burned,  the 
estate  still  exists,  but  the  right  to  it  has  become  disputable. 

22.  The  real  worth  of  money  reniaips  unchanged,  as 
long  as  the  proportion  of  the  quantity  of  existing  money 
to  the  quantity  of  existing  wealth  or  available  labour 
remains  unchanged. 

If  the  wealth  increases,  but  not  the  money,  the  worth 
of  the  money  increases ; if  the  money  increases,  but  not 
the  wealth,  the  worth  of  the  money  diminishes. 

23.  Money,  therefore,  cannot  be  arbitrarily  multiplied, 
any  more  than  title-deeds  can.  So  long  as  the  existing 
wealth  or  available  labour  is  not  fully  represented  by  the 
currency,  the  currency  may  be  increased  without  diminu- 
tion of  the  assigned  worth  of  its  pieces.  But  when  the 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


15 


existing  wealth,  or  available  labour  is  once  fully  repre- 
sented, every  piece  of  money  thrown  into  circulation 
diminishes  the  worth  of  every  other  existing  piece,  in  the 
proportion  it  bears  to  the  number  of  them,  provided  the 
new  piece  be  received  with  equal  credit ; if  not,  the  de- 
precia^tion  of  wnrth  takes  place,  according  to  the  degree 
of  its  credit. 

24.  Wlien,  however,  new  money,  composed  of  some 
substance  of  supposed  intrinsic  value  (as  of  gold),  is 
brought  into  the  market,  or  when  new  notes  are  issued 
which  are  supposed  to  be  deserving  of  credit,  the  desire 
to  obtain  the  money  wdll,  under  certain  circumstances, 
stimulate  industry : an  additional  quantity  of  wealth  is 
immediately  produced,  and  if  this  be  in  proportion  to  the 
new  claims  advanced,  tlie  value  of  the  existing  currency 
is  undepreciated.  If  the  stimulus  given  be  so  great  as 
to  produce  more  goods  than  are  proportioned  to  the 
additional  coinage,  the  worth  of  the  existing  currency 
will  be  raised. 

Arbitrary  control  and  issues  of  currency  affect  the  pro- 
duction of  wealth,  by  acting  on  the  hopes  and  fears  of 
men,  and  are,  under  certain  circumstances,  wise.  But  the 
issue  of  additional  currency  to  meet  the  exigencies  of  im- 
mediate expense,  is  merely  one  of  the  disguised  forms  of 
borrowing  or  taxing.  It  is,  however,  in  the  present  low 
state  of  economical  knowledge,  often  possible  for  govern- 
ments to  venture  on  an  issue  of  currency,  when  they 
could  not  venture  on  an  additional  loan  or  tax,  because 


16 


MUNEKA  PULVEKIS. 


the  real  operation  of  snch  issue  is  not  understood  by  the 
people,  and  the  pressure  of  it  is  irregularly  distributed, 
and  with  an  unperceived  gradation. 

25.  The  use  of  substances  of  intrinsic  value  as  the  ma- 
terials of  a currency,  is  a barbarism  ; — a remnant  of  the 
conditions  of  barter,  which  alone  render  commerce  possi- 
ble among  savage  nations.  It  is,  however,  still  necessary, 
partly  as  a mechanical  check  on  arbitrary  issues ; partly 
as  a means  of  exchanges  with  foreign  nations.  In  pro- 
portion to  the  extension  of  civilization,  and  increase  of 
trustworthiness  in  Governments,  it  will  cease.  So  long  as 
it  exists,  the  phenomena  of  the  cost  and  price  of  the  arti- 
cles used  for  currency  are  mingled  with  those  proper  to 
currency  itself  , in  an  almost  inextricable  manner : and  the 
market  worth  of  bullion  is  affected  by  multitudinous 
accidental  circumstances,  which  have  been  traced,  with 
more  or  less  success,  by  writers  on  commercial  operations : 
but  with  these  variations  the  true  political  economist  has 
no  more  to  do  than  an  engineer,  fortifying  a harbour  of 
refuge  against  Atlantic  tide,  has  to  concern  himself  with 
the  cries  or  quarrels  of  children  who  dig  pools  with  their 
fingers  for  its  streams  among  the  sand. 

26.  III. — Riches.  According  to  the  various  industry, 
capacity,  good  fortune,  and  desires  of  men,  they  obtain 
greater  or  smaller  share  of,  and  claim  upon,  the  wealth  of 
the  world. 

The  inequalities  between  these  shares,  always  in  some  ^ 
degree  just  and  necessary,  may  be  either  restrained  by 


MUNERA  PULVERI8. 


17 


law  or  circumstance  within  certain  limits;  or  may  in- 
crease indefinitely. 

Where  no  moral  or  legal  restraint  is  put  upon  the  exer- 
cise of  the  will  and  intellect  of  the  stronger,  shrewder,  or 
more  covetous  men,  these  differences  become  ultimately 
enormous.  But  as  soon  as  they  become  so  distinct  in 
their  extremes  as  that,  on  one  side,  there  shall  be  manifest 
redundance  of  possession,  and  on  the  other  manifest  pres- 
sure of  need, — the  terms  “riches”  and  “poverty”  are 
used  to  express  the  opposite  states ; being  contrary  only 
as  the  terms  “warmth”  and  “cold”  are  contraries,  of 
which  neither  implies  an  actual  degree,  but  only  a rela- 
tion to  other  degrees,  of  temperature. 

27.  Bespecting  riches,  the  economist  has  to  inquire, 
first,  into  the  advisable  modes  of  their  collection ; secondly, 
into  the  advisable  modes  of  their  administration. 

Bespecting  the  collection,  of  national  riches,  he  has  to 
inquire,  first,  whether  he  is  justified  in  calling  the  nation 
rich,  if  the  quantity  of  wealth  it  possesses  relatively  to  the 
wealth  of  other  nations,  be  large;  irrespectively  of  the 
manner  of  its  distribution.  Or  does  the  mode  of  distri- 
bution in  any  wise  afi'ect  the  nature  of  the  riches  ? Thus, 
if  the  king  alone  be  rich — suppose  Croesus  or  Mausolus — 
are  the  Lydians  or  Carians  therefore  a rich  nation?  Or 
if  a few  slave-masters  are  rich,  and  the  nation  is  other- 
wise composed  of  slaves,  is  it  to  be  called  a rich  nation  ? 
For  if  not,  and  the  ideas  of  a certain  mode  of  distribution 
or  operation  in  the  riches,  and  of  a certain  degree  of  free- 


18 


MUNEEA  PTJLVEEIS. 


f^om  in  the  people,  enter  into  our  idea  of  riches  as  attri- 
buted to  a people,  we  shall  have  to  define  the  degree  of 
fiuency,  or  circulative  character  which  is  essential  to  the 
nature  of  common  wealth;  and  the  degree  of  indepen- 
dence of  action  required  in  its  possessors.  Questions 
which  look  as  if  they  would  take  time  in  answering.* 

28.  And  farther.  Since  the  inequality,  which  is  the 
condition  of  riches,  may  be  established  in  two  opposite 
modes — nameljq  by  increase  of  possession  on  the  qne  side, 
and  by  decrease  of  it  on  the  other— we  have  to  inquire, 
with  respect  to  any  given  state  of  riches,  precisely  in  what 
manner  the  correlative  poverty  was  produced ; that  is  to 
say,  whether  by  being  surpassed  only,  or  being  depressed 
also ; and  if  by  being  depressed,  what  are  the  advantages, 
or  the  contrary,  conceivable  in  the  depression.  For  in-’^ 
stance,  it  being  one  of  the  commonest  advantages  of  being 
rich  to  entertain  a number  of  servants,  we  have  to  inquire, 
on  the  one  side,  what  economical  process  produced  the 
riches  of  the  master ; and  on  the  other,  what  economical 
process  produced  the  poverty  of  the  persons  who  serve 
him ; and  what  advantages  each,  on  his  own  side,  derives 
from  the  result. 

29.  These  being  the  main  questions  touching  the  col- 

[ * I regret  the  ironical  manner  in  which  this  passage,  one  of  great 
importance  in  the  matter  of  it,  was  written.  The  gist  of  it  is,  that  the 
first  of  all  inquiries  respecting  the  wealth  of  any  nation  is  not,  how 
much  it  has ; but  whether  it  is  in  a form  that  can  be  used,  and  in  the 
possession  of  persons  who  can  use  it.  ] 


MUNEEA  PULVERIS. 


19 


lection  o£  riches,  the  next,  or  last,  part  of  the  inquiry  is 
into  their  administration. 

Their  possession  involves  three  great  economical  powers 
which  require  separate  examination : namely,  the  powers 
of  selection,  direction,  and  provision. 

The  power  of  Selection  relates  to  things  of  which  the 
supply  is  limited  (as  the  supply  of  best  things  is  always). 
When  it  becomes  matter  of  question-  to  whom  such  things 
are  to  belong,  the  richest  person  has  necessarily  the  first 
choice,  unless  some  arbitrary  mode  of  distribution  be 
otherwise  determined  upon.  The  business  of  the  econo- 
mist is  to  show  how  this  choice  may  be  a wise  one. 

The  power  of  Diep]ction  arises  out  of  the  necessary 
relation  of  rich  men  to  poor,  wdiich  ultimately,  in  one 
way  or  another,  involves  the  direction  of,  or  authority 
over,  the  labour  of  the  poor;  and  this  nearly  as  much 
over  their  mental  as  their,  bodily  labour.  The  business 
of  the  economist  is  to  show  how  this  direction  may  be  a 
Just  one. 

The  powder  of  Provision  is  dependent  upon  the  re- 
dundance of  wealth,  which  may  of  course  by  active 
persons  be  made  available  in  preparation  for  future  w^ork 
or  future  profit ; in  which  function  riches  have  generally 
received  the  name  of  capital ; that  is  to  say,  of  head-,  or 
source-material.  The  business  of  the  economist  is  to 
show  how  this  provision  may  be  a Distant  one. 

30.  The  examination  of  these  three  functions  of  riches 
will  embrace  every  final  problem  of  political  economy; — 


20 


MUNEEA  PULVERIS. 


and,  above,  or  before  all,  this  curious  and  vital  problem, 
— whether,  since  the  wholesome  action  of  riches  in  these 
three  functions  will  depend  (it  appears),  on  the  Wisdom, 
Justice,  and  Farsightedness  of  the  holders ; and  it  is  by 
no  means  to  be  assumed  that  persons  primarily  rich, 
must  therefore  be  just  and  wise, — ^it  may  not  be  ulti- 
mately possible  so,  or  somewhat  so,  to  arrange  matters, 
as  that  persons  primarily  just  and  wise,  should  therefore 
be  rich  ? 

Such  being  the  general  plan  of  the  inquiry  before  us, 
I shall  not  limit  myself  to  any  consecutive  following  of 
it,  having  hardly  any  good  hope  of  being  able  to  complete 
so  laborious  a work  as  it  must  prove  to  me;  but  from  time 
to  time,  as  I have  leisure,  shall  endeavour  to  carry  for- 
ward this  part  or  that,  as  may  be  immediately  possible ; 
indicating  always  with  accuracy  the  place  which  the 
particular  essay  will  or  should  take  in  the  completed 
system. 


MUNEEA  PULVEEIS. 


21 


CHAPTEE  II. 

S T O R E-K  E E P I N G. 

31.  The  first  chapter  having  consisted  of  little  more 
than  definition  of  terms,  I purpose,  in  this,  to  expand 
and  illustrate  the  given  definitions. 

The  view  which  has  here  been  taken  of  the  nature  of 
wealth,  namely,  that  it  consists  in  an  intrinsic  value 
developed  by  a vital  power,  is  directly  opposed  to  two. 
nearly  universal  conceptions  of  wealth.  In  the  assertion 
that  value  is  primarily  inti-insic,  it  opposes  the  idea  that 
anything  which  is  an  object  of  desire  to  numbers,  and  is 
limited  in  quantity,  so  as  to  have  rated  worth  in  exchange, 
may  be  called,  or  virtually  become,  wealth.  And  in  the 
assertion  that  value  is,  secondarily,  dependent  upon  power 
in  the  possessor,  it  opposes  the  idea  that  the  worth  of 
things  depends  on  the  demand  for  them,  instead  of  on 
the  use  of  them.  Before  going  farther,  we  will  make 
these  two  positions  clearer. 

32.  I.  First.  All  wealth  is  intrinsic,  and  is  not  con- 
stituted by  the  judgment  of  men.  This  is  easily  seen  in 
the  case  of  things  affecting  the  body ; we  know,  that  no 
force  of  fantasy  will  make  stones  nourishing,  or  poison 
.nnocent;  but  it  is  less  apparent  in  things  affecting  the 


22 


MUNEKA  PULVERIS. 


mind.  We  are  easily — perhaps  willingly — misled  by  the 
appearance  of  beneficial  results  obtained  by  industi’ies 
addressed  wholly  to  the  gratification  of  fanciful  desire ; 
and  apt  to  suppose  that  whatever  is  widely  coveted, 
dearly  bought,  and  pleasurable  in  possession,  must  be 
included  in  our  definition  of  wealth.  It  is  the  more 
difiicult  to  quit  ourselves  of  this  error  because  many 
things  which  are  true  wealth  in  moderate  use,  become 
false  wealth  in  immoderate ; and  many  things  are  mixed 
ipf  good  and  evil, — as  mostly,  books,  and  works  of  art, — 
out  of  which  one  person  will  get  the  good,  and  another 
the  evil ; so  that  it  seems  as  if  there  were  no  fixed  good 
or  evil  in  the  things  themselves,  but  only  in  the  view 
taken,  and  use  made  of  them. 

But  that  is  not  so.  The  evil  and  good  are  fixed;  in 
essence,  and  in  proportion.  And  in  things  in  which  evil 
depends  upon  excess,  the  point  of  excess,  though  inde- 
finable, is  fixed ; and  the  power  of  the  thing  is  on  the 
hither  side  for  good,  and  on  the  farther  side  for  evil. 
And  in  all  cases  this  power  is  inherent,  not  dependent 
on  opinion  or  choice.  Our  thoughts  of  things  neither 
make,  nor  mar  their  eternal  force ; nor — which  is  the 
most  serious  point  for  future  consideration — can  they 
prevent  the  effect  of  it  (within  certain  limits)  upon 
ourselves. 

33.  Therefore,  the  object  of  any  special  analysis  of 
wealth  will  be  not  so  much  to  enumerate  what  is  service- 
able, as  to  distinguish  what  is  destructive ; and  to  show 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


23 


that  it  is  inevitably  destructive ; that  to  receive  pleasure 
from  an  evil  thing  is  not  to  escape  from,  or  alter  the  evil 
of  it,  but  to  be  altered  hy  it;  that  is,  to  suffer  from  it  to 
the  utmost,  having  our  own  nature,  in  that  degree,  made 
evil  also.  And  it  may  be  shown  farther,  that,  through 
whatever  length  of  time  or  subtleties  of  connexion  the 
harm  is  accomplished,  (being  also  less  or  more  according 
to  the  fineness  and  worth  of  the  humanity  on  which  it  is 
wrought),  still,  nothing  hut  harm  ever  comes  of  a bad 
thing. 

34.  So  that,  in  sum,  the  term  wealth  is  never  to  be 
attached  to  the  accidental  object  of  a morbid  desire,  but 
only  to  the  constant  object  of  a legitimate  onef^  By  the 
fury  of  ignorance,  and  fitfulness  of  caprice,  large  interests 
may  be  continually  attached  to  things  unserviceable  or 
hurtful ; if  their  nature  could  be  altered  by  our  passions, 
the  science  of  Political  Economy  would  remain,  what  it 
has  been  hitherto  among  us,  the  weighing  of  clouds,  and 
the  portioning  out  of  shadows.  But  of  ignorance  there 
is  no  science;  and  of  caprice  no  law.  Their  disturbing 
forces  interfere  with  the  operations  of  faithful  Economy, 
but  have  nothing  in  common  with  them:  she,  the  calm 
arbiter  of  national  destiny,  regards  only  essential  po-wer 
for  good  in  all  that  she  accumulates,  and  alike  dis- 

[*  Remember  carefully  this  statement,  that  Wealth  consists  only  in 
the  things  which  the  nature  of  humanity  has  rendered  in  all  ages,  and 
must  render  in  all  ages  to  come,  (that  is  what  I meant  by  “ constant”), 
the  objects  of  legitimate  desire.  And  see  Appendix  II.] 


24 


MUNERA  PULVEEIS. 


/ dains  the  wanderings*  of  imagination,  and  the  thirsts  of 
disease. 

35.  II.  Secondly.  The  assertion  that  wealth  is  not  only 
intrinsic,  but  dependent,  in  order  to  become  effectual,  on 
a given  degree  of  vital  power  in  its  possessor,  is  opposed 
to  another  popular  view  of  wealth; — namely,  that  though 
it  may  always  be  constituted  by  caprice,  it  is,  when  so 
constituted,  a substantial  thing,  of  which  given  quantities 
may  be  counted  as  existing  here,  or  there,  and  exchangeable 
at  rated  prices. 

In  this  view  there  are  three  errors.  The  first  and  chief 
is  the  overlooking  the  fact  that  all  exchangeableness  of 
commodity,  or  effective  demand  for  it,  depends  on  the 
sum  of  capacity  for  its  use  existing,  here  or  elsewhere. 
The  book  we  cannot  read,  or  picture  we  take  no  delight 
in,  may  indeed  be  called  part  of  our  wealth,  in  so  far  as 
we  have  power  of  exchanging  either  for  something  we 
like  better.  But  our  power  of  effecting  such  exchange, 
and  yet  more,  of  effecting  it  to  advantage,  depends  abso- 
lutely on  the  number  of  accessible  persons  who  can  un- 
derstand the  book,  or  enjoy  the  painting,  and  who  will 
dispute  the  possession  of  them.  Thus  the  actual  worth 
of  either,  even  to  us,  depends  no  more  on  their  essential 
goodness  than  on  the  capacity  existing  somewhere  for  the 
perception  of  it ; and  it  is  vain  in  any  completed  system 
of  production  to  think  of  obtaining  one  without  the  other. 

[*  The  Wanderings,  observe,  not  the  Right  goings,  of  Imagination. 
She  is  very  far  from  despising  these.] 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


25 


So  that,  thoRgli  the  true  political  economist  knows  that 
(io-existence  of  capacity  for  use  with  temporary  possession 
cannot  be  always  secured,  the  final  fact,  on  which  he 
bases  all  action  and  administration,  is  that,  in  the  whole 
nation,  or  group  of  nations,  he  has  to  deal  with,  for  every 
atom  of  intrinsic  value  produced  he  must  with  exactest 
chemistry  produce  its  twin  atom  of  acceptant  digestion, 
or  understanding  capacity ; or,  in  the  degree  of  his  failure, 
he  has  no  wealth.  Nature’s  challenge  to  us  is,  in  earnest, 
as  the  Assyrians  mock;  will  give  thee  two  thousand 
horses,  if  thou  be  able  on  thy  part  to  set  riders  upon 
them.”  Bavieca’s  paces  are  brave,  if  the  Cid  backs  him ; 
but  woe  to  us,  if  we  take  the  dust  of  capacity,  wearing 
the  armour  of  it,  for  capacity  itself,  for  so  all  procession, 
hovrever  goodly  in  the  show  of  it,  is  to  the  tomb. 

36.  The  second  error  in  this  popular  view  of  wealth  is, 
that  in  giving  the  name  of  wealth  to  things  which  we  can- 
not use,  we  in  reality  confuse  wealth  with  money.  The 
land  we  have  no  skill  to  cultivate,  the  book  which  is  sealed 
to  us,  or  dress  which  is  superfiuous,  may  indeed  be  ex- 
changeable, but  as  such  are  nothing  more  than  a cumbrous 
form  of  bank-note,  of  doubtful  or  slow  convertibility.  As 
long  as  we  retain  possession  of  them,  we  merely  keep  our 
bank-notes  in  the  shape  of  gravel  or  clay,  of  book-leaves, 
or  of  embroidered  tissue.  Circumstances  may,  perhaps, 
render  such  forms  the  safest,  or  a certain  complacency 
may  attach  to  the  exhibition  of  them  ; into  both  these  ad- 
vantages we  shall  inquire  afterwards ; I wish  the  reader 
2 


26 


MUNEKA  PULVEEIS. 


only  to  observe  here,  that  exchangeable  property  which  we 
cannot  use  is,  to  ns  pei’sonally,  merely  one  of  the  forms 
of  money,  not  of  wealth. 

37.  The  third  error  in  the  popular  view  is  the  confusion 
of  Guardianship  with  Possession  ; the  real  state  of  men 
of  property  being,  too  commonly,  that  of  curators,  not 
possessors,  of  wealth. 

A man’s  power  over  his  property  is  at  the  widest  range 
of  it,  fivefold  ; it  is  power  of  Use,  for  himself.  Adminis- 
tration, to  others.  Ostentation,  Destruction,  or  Bequest : 
and  possession  is  in  use  only,  which  for  each  man  is  sternly 
limited ; so  that  such  things,  and  so  much  of  them  as  he 
can  use,  are,  indeed,  well  for  him,  or  Wealth;  and  more 
of  them,  or  any  other  things,  are  ill  for  him,  or  Illth.* 
Plunged  to  the  lips  in  Orinoco,  he  shall  di’ink  to  his  thii*st 
measure  ; more,  at  his  peril : with  a thousand  oxen  on  his 
lands,  he  shall  eat  to  his  hunger  measure ; more,  at  his 
peril.  He  cannot  live  in  two  houses  at  once  ; a few  bales 
of  silk  or  wool  will  suffice  for  the  fabric  of  all  the  clothes 
he  can  ever  wear,  and  a few  books  will  probably  hold  all 
the  furniture  good  for  his  brain.  Beyond  these,  in  the 
best  of  us  but  narrow,  capacities,  we  have  but  the  power 
of  administering,  or  ?/?^j^^administering,  wealth : (that  is 
to  say,  distributing,  lending,  or  increasing  it) ; — of  exhibit- 
ing it  (as  in  magnificence  of  retinue  or  furniture), — of 
destroying,  or,  finally,  of  bequeathing  ih  And  with  mul- 
titudes of  rich  men,  administration  degenerates  into 
* See  Appendix  III.  ' 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


27 


curatorship  ; they  merely  hold  their  property  in  charge,  as 
Trustees,  for  the  benefit  of  some  person  or  persons  to 
whom  it  is  to  be  delivered  upon  their  death;  and  the 
position,  explained  in  clear  terms,  would  hardly  seem  a 
covetable  one.  What  would  be  the  probable  feelings  of  a 
youth,  on  his  entrance  into  life,  to  whom  the  career  hoped 
for  him  was  proposed  in  terms  such  as  these:  “ You  must 
•work  unremittingly,  and  with  your  utmost  intelligence, 
during  all  your  available  years,  you  will  thus  accumulate 
wealth  to  a large  amount ; but  you  must  touch  none  of  it, 
beyond  what  is  needful  for  your  support.  Whatever  sums 
you  gain,  beyond  those  required  for  your  decent  and  mode- 
rate maintenance,  and  whatever  beautiful  things  you  may 
obtain  possession  of,  shall  be  properly  taken  care  of  by 
servants,  for  whose  maintenance  you  will  be  charged,  and 
whom  you  will  have  the  trouble  of  superintending,  and 
on  your  death-bed  you  shall  have  the  power  of  determin- 
ing to  whom  the  accumulated  property  shall  belong,  or  to 
what  purposes  be  applied.” 

38.  The  labour  of  life,  under  such  conditions,  would 
probably  be  neither  zealous  nor  cheerful;  yet  the  only 
difference  between  this  position  and  that  of  the  ordinary, 
,capitalist  is  the  power  which  the  latter  supposes  himself 
to  possess,  and  which  is  attributed  to  him  by  others,  of 
spending  his  money  at  any  moment.  This  pleasure,  taken 
in  the  imagination  of  power  to  part  with  that  with  which 
we  have  no  intention  of  parting^  is  one  of  the  most 
curious,  though  commonest  forms  of  the  Eidolon,  or  Phan- 


28 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


tasm  of  Wealth.  But  the  political  economist  has  nothing 
to  do  with  this  idealism,  and  looks  only  to  the  practical 
issue  of  it — namely,  that  the  holder  of  wealth,  in  such 
temper,  may  be  regarded  simply  as  a mechanical  means 
of  collection ; or  as  a money-chest  with  a slit  in  it,  not  only 
receptant  but  suctional,  set  in  the  public  thoroughfare  ; — 
chest  of  which  only  Death  has  the  key,  and  evil  Chance 
the  distribution  of  the  contents.  In  his  function  of 
Lender  (Avhich,  however,  is  one  of  administration,  not  use, 
as  far  as  he  is  himself  concerned),  the  capitalist  takes, 
indeed,  a more  interesting  aspect ; but  even  in  that  func- 
tion, his  relations  with  the  state  are  apt  to  degenerate 
into  a mechanism  for  the  convenient  contraction  of  debt ; 
— a function  the  more  mischievous,  because  a nation  inva- 
riably appeases  its  conscience  with  respect  to  an  unjusti- 
hable  expense,  by  meeting  it  with  borrowed  funds,  ex- 
presses its  repentance  of  a foolish  piece  of  business,  by 
letting  its  tradesmen  wait  for  their  money,  and  always 
leaves  its  descendants  to  pay  for  the  work  which  will  be 
of  the  least  advantage  to  them.* 

39.  Quit  of  these  three  sources  of  misconception,  the 
reader  will  have  little  farther  difficulty  in  apprehending 
the  real  nature  of  Effectual  value.  He  may,  however,  at 
first  not  without  surprise,  perceive  the  consequences  in- 
volved in  his  acceptance  of  the  definition.  For  if  the 

[ * I would  beg  the  reader’s  very  close  attention  to  these  37th  and 
38th  paragraphs.  It  would  be  well  if  a dogged  conviction  could  be 
enforced  on  nations,  as  on  individuals,  that,  with  few  exceptions,  what 
they  cannot  at  present  pay  for,  they  should  not  at  present  have.] 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


29 


actual  existence  of  wealth  be  dependent  on  the  power 
of  its  possessor,  it  follows  that  the  sum  of  wealth  held  by 
the  nation,  instead  of  being  constant  or  calculable,  varies 
hourly,  nay,  momentarily,  with  the  number  and  character 
of  its  holders ! and  that  in  changing  hands,  it  changes  in 
quantity.  And  farther,  since  the  worth  of  the  currency 
is  proportioned  to  the  sum  of  material  wealth  which  it  re- 
presents, if  the  sum  of  the  wealth  changes,  the  worth  of 
the  currency  changes.  And  thus  both  the  sum  of  the 
property,  and  power  of  the  currency,  of  the  state,  vary 
momentarily  as  the  character  and  number  of  the  holders. 
And  not  only  so,  but  different  rates  and  kinds  of  variation 
are  caused  by  the  character  of  the  holders  of  different 
kinds  of  wealth.  The  transitions  of  value  caused  by  the 
character  of  the  holders  of  land  differ  in  mode  from  those 
caused  by  character  in  holders  of  works  of  art ; and  these 
again  from  those  caused  by  character  in  holders  of  ma- 
chinery or  other  working  capital.  But  we  cannot  examine 
these  special  phenomena  of  any  kind  of  wealth  until  we 
have  a clear  idea  of  the  way  in  Avhich  true  currency  ex- 
presses them;  and  of  the  resulting  modes  in  which  the 
cost  and  price  of  any  article  are  related  to  its  value.  To 
obtain  this  we  must  approach  the  subject  in  its  first 
elements. 

40.  Let  us  suppose  a national  store  of  wealth,  composed 
of  material  things  either  useful,  or  belived  to  be  so,  taken 
charge  of  by  the  Government,*  and  that  every  workman, 
* See  Appendix  IV. 


30 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


having  produced  any  article  involving  labonr  in  its  pro- 
duction, and  for  which  he  has  no  immediate  use,  brings  it 
to  add  to  this  store,  receiving  from  the  Government,  in  ex- 
change, an  order  either  for  the  return  of  the  thing  itself, 
or  of  its  equivalent  in  other  things,  such  as  he  may  choose 
out  of  the  store,  at  any  time  when  he  needs  them.  The 
question  of  equivalence  itself  (liow  much  wine  a man  is  to 
receive  in  return  for  so  much  corn,  or  how  much  coal  in 
return  for  so  much  iron)  is  a quite  separate  one,  which  we 
will  examine  presently.  For  the  time,  let  it  he  assumed 
that  this  equivalence  has  been  determined,  and  that  the 
Government  order,  in  exchange  for  a fixed  weight  of  any 
article  (called,  suppose  a),  is  either  for  the  return  of  that 
weight  of  the  article  itself,  or  of  another  fixed  weight  of 
the  article  5,  or  another  of  the  article  c,  and  so  on. 

Kow,  supposing  that  the  labourer  speedily  and  continu- 
ally presents  these  general  orders,  or,  in  common  language, 
“ spends  the  money,”  he  has  neither  changed  the  circum- 
stances of  the  nation,  nor  his  own,  except  in  so  far  as  he 
may  have  produced  useful  and  consumed  useless  articles, 
or  vice  versa.  But  if  he  does  not  use,  or  uses  in  part  only, 
the  orders  he  receives,  and  lays  aside  some  portion  of 
them;  and  thus  every  day  bringing  his  contribution  to 
the  national  store,  lays  by  some  per-centage  of  the  orders 
received  in  exchange  for  it,  he  increases  the  national 
wealth  daily  by  as  much  as  he  does  not  use  of  the  received 
order,  and  to  the  same  amount  accumulates  a monetary 
claim  on  the  Government.  It  is,  of  course,  always  in  his 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


31 


power,  as  it  is  his  legal  right,  to  bring  forward  this  accu- 
mulation of  claim,  and  at  once  to  consume,  destroy,  or 
distribute,  the  sum  of  his  wealth.  Supposing  he  never 
does  so,  but  dies,  leaving  his  claim  to  others,  he  has  en- 
riched the  State  during  his  life  by  the  quantity  of  wealth 
over  which  that  claim  extends,  or  has,  in  other  words,  ren- 
dered so  much  additional  life  possible  in  the  State,  of 
which  additional  life  he  bequeaths  the  immediate  possi- 
bility to  those  whom  he  invests  with  his  claim.  Supposing 
him  to  cancel  the  claim,  he  would  distribute  this  possi- 
bility of  life  among  the  nation  at  large. 

41,  We  hitherto  consider  the  Government  itself  as  sim- 
ply a conservative  power,  taking  charge  of  the  wealth 
entrusted  to  it. 

But  a Government  may  be  more  or  less  than  a conser- 
vative power.  It  may  be  either  an  improving,  or  destruc- 
tive one. 

If  it  be  an  improving  power,  using  all  the  wealth 
entrusted  to  it  to  the  best  advantage,  the  nation  is  en- 
riched in  root  and  branch  at  once,  and  the  Government 
is  enabled,  for  every  order  presented,  to  return  a quantity 
of  wealth  greater  than  the  order  was  written  for,  accord- 
ing to  the  fructiiication  obtained  in  the  interim.  This 
ability  may  be  either  concealed,  in  which  case  the  cur- 
rency does  not  completely  represent  the  wealth  of  the 
country,  or  it  may  be  manifested  by  the  continual  pay- 
ment of  the  excess  of  value  on  each  order,  in  which  case 
there  is  (irrespectively,  observe,  of  collateral  results  after- 


32 


MUNERA  PULVEBIS. 


wards  to  be  examined)  a perpetual  rise  in  tbe  worth  of 
the  currency,  that  is  to  say,  a fall  in  the  price  of  all 
articles  represented  by  it. 

42.  But  if  the  Government  be  destructive,  or  a <3on- 
suming  power,  it  becomes  unable  to  return  the  value 
received  on  the  presentation  of  the  order. 

This  inability  may  either  be  concealed  by  meeting 
demands  to  the  full,  until  it  issue  in  bankruptcy,  or  in 
some  form  of  national  debt; — or  it  may  be  concealed 
during  oscillatory  movements  between  destructiveness 
and  productiveness,  which  result  on  the  whole  in  stabil- 
ity;— or  it  may  be  manifested  by  the  consistent  retm’n 
of  less  than  value  received  on  each  presented  order,  in 
which  case  there  is  a consistent  fall  in  the  worth  of  the 
currency,  or  rise  in  the  price  of  the  things  represented  by  it, 

43.  Xow,  if  for  this  conception  of  a central  Govern- 
ment, we  substitute  that  of  a body  of  persons  occupied  in 
industrial  pursuits,  of  whom  each  adds  in  his  private 
capacity  to  the  common  store,  we  at  once  obtain  an  ap- 
proximation to  the  actual  condition  of  a civilized  mercan- 
tile community,  from  which  approximation  we  might 
easily  proceed  into  still  completer  analysis.  I purpose, 
however,  to  arrive  at  every  result  by  the  gradual  expan- 
sion of  the  simpler  conception ; but  I wish  the  reader  to 
observe,  in  the  meantime,  that  both  the  social  conditions 
thus  supposed  (and  I will  by  anticipation  say  also,  all 
possible  social  conditions),  agree  in  two  great  points ; 
namely,  in  the  primal  importance  of  the  supposed  national 


MUNEEA  PULVEEI8. 


33 


store  or  stock,  and  in  its  destmctibility  or  improveability 
by  the  holders  of  it. 

44.  I.  Observe  that  in  both  conditions,  that  of  central 
Government-holding,  and  diffused  private-holding,  the 
quantity  of  stock  is  of  the  same  national  moment.  In  the 
one  case,  indeed,  its  amount  may  be  known  by  examina- 
tion of  the  persons  to  whom  it  is  confided  ; in  the  other  it 
cannot  be  known  but  by  exposing  the  private  affairs  of 
every  individual.  But,  known  or  unknown,  its  signifi- 
cance is  the  same  under  each  condition.  The  riches  of 
the  nation  consist  in  the  abundance,  and  their  wealth  de- 
pends on  the  nature,  of  this  store. 

45.  II.  In  the  second  place,  both  conditions,  (and  all 
other  possible  ones)  agree  in  the  destmctibility  or  im- 
proveability of  the  store  by  its  holders.  Whether  in  pri- 
vate hands,  or  under  Government  charge,  the  national 
store  may  be  daily  consumed,  or  daily  enlarged,  by  its 
possessors ; and  while  the  currency  remains  apparently 
unaltered,  the  property  it  represents  may  diminish  or  in- 
crease. 

46.  The  fii-st  question,  then,  which  we  have  to  put  under 
our  simple  conception  of  central  Government,  namely, 
“What  store  has  it?”  is  one  of  equal  importance,  what- 
ever may  be  the  constitution  of  the  State;  while  the 
second  question — namely,  “ Who  are  the  holders  of  the 
store  ? ” involves  the  discussion  of  the  constitution  of  the 
State  itself. 

The  first  inquiry  resolves  itself  into  three  heads  : 

2* 


34 


MUNEEA  PULVERIS. 


1.  What  is  the  nature  of  the  store  ? 

2.  What  is  its  quantity  in  relation  to  the  population  ? 

3.  What  is  its  quantity  in  relation  to  the  currency  ? 

The  second  inquiry  into  two  : 

1.  Who  are  the  Holders  of  the  store,  and  in  what  pro- 
portions ? 

2.  Who  are  the  Claimants  of  the  store,  (that  is  to  say, 
the  holders  of  the  currency,)  and  in  what  proportions  ? 

We  will  examine  the  range  of  the  first  three  questions 
in  the  present  paper ; of  the  two  following,  in  the  sequel. 

47.  I.  Question  First.  What  is  the  nature  of  the 
store  ? Has  the  nation  hitherto  worked  for  and  gathered 
the  right  thing  or  the  wrong  ? On  that  issue  rest  the 
possibilities  of  its  life. 

For  example,  let  us  imagine  a society,  of  no  great 
extent,  occupied  in  procuring  and  laying  up  store  of 
com,  wine,  wool,  silk,  and  other  such  preservable  mate- 
rials of  food  and  clothing;  and  that  it  has  a currency 
representing  them.  Imagine  farther,  that  on  days  of 
festivity,  the  society,  discovering  itself  to  derive  satisfac- 
tion from  pyrotechnics,  gradually  turns  its  attention  more 
and  more  to  the  manufacture  of  gunpowder;  so  that  an 
increasing  number  of  labourers,  giving  what  time  they 
can  spare  to  this  branch  of  industry,  bring  increasing 
quantities  of  combustibles  into  the  store,  and  use  the 
general  orders  received  in  exchange  to  obtain  such  wine, 
wool,  or  corn,  as  they  may  have  need  of.  The  currency 
remains  the  same,  and  represents  precisely  the  same 


MUNERA  PUI.VERIS. 


35 


amount  of  material  in  the  store,  and  of  labour  spent  in 
producing  it.  But  the  corn  and  wine  gradually  vanisli, 
and  in  their  place,  as  gradually,  appear  sulphur  and  salt- 
petre, till  at  last  the  labourers  who  have  consumed  corn 
and  supplied  nitre,  presenting  on  a festal  morning  some 
of  their  currency  to  obtain  materials  for  the  feast,  dis- 
cover that  no  amount  of  currency  will  command  anything 
Festive,  except  Fire.  The  supply  of  rockets  is  unlimited, 
but  that  of  food,  limited,  in  a quite  final  manner;  and 
the  whole  currency  in  the  hands  of  the  society  represents 
an  infinite  power  of  detonation,  but  none  of  existence. 

48.  This  statement,  caricatured  as  it  may  seem,  is  only 
exaggerated  in  assuming  the  persistence  of  the  folly  to 
extremity,  unchecked,  as  in  reality  it  would  be,  by  the 
gradual  rise  in  price  of  food.  But  it  falls  short  of  the 
actual  facts  of  human  life  in  expression  of  the  depth  and 
intensity  of  the  folly  itself.  . For  a great  part  (the  reader 
would  not  believe  how  great  until  he  saw  the  statistics  in 
detail)  of  the  most  earnest  and  ingenious  industry  of  the 
world  is  spent  in  producing  munitions  of  war ; gathering, 
that  is  to  say  the  materials,  not  of  festive,  but  of  con- 
suming fire ; filling  its  stores  with  all  power  of  the  instru- 
ments of  pain,  and  all  affluence  of  the  ministries  of  death. 
It  was  no  true  Trionfo  della  Mortd^  which  men  have 
seen  and  feared  (sometimes  scarcely  feared)  so  long ; 

[*  I little  thought,  what  Trionfo  della  Morte  would  be,  for  this  very 
cause,  and  in  literal  fulfilment  of  the  closing  words  of  the  47th  para- 
graph, over  the  fields  and  houses  of  Europe,  and  over  its  fairest  city — 
within  seven  years  from  the  day  I wrote  it.] 


36 


MUNERA  PULVEEIS. 


wherein  he  brought  them  rest  from  their  labours.  We 
see,  and  share,  another  and  higher  form  of  his  triumph 
now.  Task-master,  instead  of  Eeleaser,  he  rules  the  dust 
of  the  arena  no  less  than  of  the  tomb  ; and,  content  once 
in  the  grave  whither  man  went,  to  make  his  works  to 
cease  and  his  devices  to  vanish, — now,  in  the  busy  city 
and  on  the  serviceable  sea,  makes  his  work  to  increase, 
and  his  devices  to  multiply. 

49.  To  this  doubled  loss,  or  negative  power  of  labour, 
spent  in  producing  means  of  destruction,  we  have  to  add, 
in  our  estimate  of  the  consequences  of  human  folly,  what- 
ever more  insidious  waste  of  toil  there  is  in  production  of 
unnecessary  luxury.  Such  and  such  an  occupation  (it  is 
said)  supports  so  many  labourers,  because  so  many  obtain 
wages  in  following  it;  but  it  is  never  considered  that 
unless  there  be  a supporting  power  in  the  product  of  the 
occupation,  the  wages  given  to  one  man  are  merely  with- 
drawn from  another.  We  cannot  say  of  any  trade  that 
it  maintains  such  and  such  a number  of  persons,  unless 
we  know  how  and  where  the  money,  now  spent  in  the 
purchase  of  its  produce,  would  have  been  spent,  if  that 
produce  had  not  been  manufactured.  The  purchasing 
funds  truly  support  a number  of  people  in  making  This ; 
but  (probably)  leave  unsupported  an  equal  number  who 
are  making,  or  could  have  made  That.  The  manufac- 
turers of  small  watches  thrive  at  Geneva ; — it  is  well ; — 
but  where  would  the  money  spent  on  small  watches  have 
gone,  had  there  been  no  small  watches  to  buy? 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


37 


50.  If  the  so  frequently  uttered  aphorism  of  mercantile 
economy — “ labour  is  limited  by  capital,”  were  true,  this 
question  would  be  a definite  one.  But  it  is  untrue ; and 
that  widely.  Out  of  a given  quantity  of  funds  for  wages, 
more  or  less  labour  is  to  be  had,  according  to  the  quantity 
of  will  with  which  we  can  inspire  the  workman ; and  the 
true  limit  of  labour  is  only  in  the  limit  of  this  moral, 
stimulus  of  the  will,  and  of  the  bodily  power.  In  an: 
ultimate,  but  entirely  unpractical  sense,  labour  is  limited 
by  capital,  as  it  is  by  matter — that  is  to  say,  where  there 
is  no  material,  there  can  be  no  work, — but  in  the  practical 
sense,  labour  is  limited  only  by  the  great  original  capital 
of  head,  heart,  and  hand.  Even  in  the  most  artificial 
relations  of  commerce,  labour  is  to  capital  as  fire  to  fuel  : 
out  of  so  much  fuel,  you  can  have  only  so  much  fire ; but 
out  of  so  much  fuel  you  Bhall  have  so  much  fire, — not  in 
proportion  to  the  mass  of  combustible,  but  to  the  force  of 
wind  that  fans  and  water  that  quenches ; and  the  appliance 
of  both.  And  labour  is  furthered,  as  conflagration  is,  not 
so  much  by  added  fuel,  as  by  admitted  air.* 

51.  For  which  reasons,  I had  to  insert,  in  § 49,  the  quali- 
fying “ probably;”  for  it  can  never  be  said  positively  that 
the  purchase-money,  or  wages  fund  of  any  trade  is  with- 
drawn from  some  other  trade.  The  object  itself  may  be 

[*  The  meaning  of  which  is,  that  you  may  spend  a great  deal  of 
money,  and  get  very  little  work  for  it,  and  that  little  bad  ; but  having 
good  “air,”  or  “spirit,”  to  put  life  into  it,  with  very  little  money,  you 
may  get  a great  deal  of  work,  and  all  good;  which,  observe,  is  an 
arithmetical,  not  at  all  a poetical  or  visionary  circumstance.]. 


38 


MUNERA  PULYERIS. 


the  stimulus  of  the  production  of  the  money  which  buys  it ; 
that  is  to  say,  the  work  by  which  the  purchaser  obtained 
the  means  of  buying  it,  would  not  have  been  done  by  him 
unless  he  had  wanted  that  particular  thing.  And  the  pro- 
duction of  any  article  not  intrinsically  (nor  in  the  process 
of  manufacture)  injurious,  is  useful,  if  the  desire  of  it 
causes  productive  labour  in  other  directions. 

52.  In  the  national  store,  therefore,  the  presence  of 
things  intrinsically  valueless  does  not  imply  an  entirely 

j correlative  absence  of  things  valuable.  We  cannot  be 
certain  that  all  the  labour  spent  on  vanity  has  been  di- 
verted from  reality,  and  that  for  every  bad  thing  produced, 
a precious  thing  has  been  lost.  In  great  measure,  the  vain 
things  represent  the  results  of  roused  indolencO;  they 
have  been  carved,  as  toys,  in  extra  time ; and,  if  they 
had  not  been  made,  nothing  else  would  have  been  made. 
Even  to  munitions  of  war  this  principle  applies;  they 
partly  represent  the  work  of  men  who,  if  they  had  not 
made  spears,  would  never  have  made  pruning  hooks,  and 
who  are  incapable  of  any  activities  but  those  of  contest. 

53.  Thus  then,  finally,  the  nature  of  the  store  has  to  be 
considered  under  two  main  lights  ; the  one,  that  of  its  im- 
mediate and  actual  utility;  the  other,  that  of  the  past 
national  character  which  it  signifies  by  its  production,  and 
future  character  which  it  must  develop  by  its  use.  And 
the  issue  of  this  investigation  will  be  to  show  us  that 

Economy  does  not  depend  merely  on  principles  of 
“ demand  and  supply,”  but  primarily  on  what  is  de- 


MUNEJRA  rULVEETS. 


39 


manded,  and  wliat  is  supplied  ; which  I will  beg  of  you 
to  observe,  and  take  to  heart. 

54.  II.  Question  Second. — What  is  the  quantity  of  the 
store,  in  relation  to  the  population  ? 

It  follows  from  what  has  been  already  stated  that  the 
accurate  foiin  in  which  this  question  has  to  be  put  is — 
‘‘What  quantity  of  each  article  composing  the  store  ex- 
ists in  proportion  to  the  real  need  for  it  by  the  population  ? ” 
But  we  shall  for  the  time  assume,  in  order  to  keep  all  onr 
terms  at  the  simplest,  that  the  store  is  w^holly  composed 
of  useful  articles,  and  accurately  proportioned  to  the  seve- 
ral needs  for  them. 

How  it  cannot  be  assumed,  because  the  store  is  large  in 
p c portion  to  the  number  of  the  people,  that  the  people 
must  be  in  comfort;  nor  because  it  is  small,  that  they 
must  be  in  distress.  An  -active  and  economical  race 
always  produces  more  than  it  requires,  and  lives  (if  it  is 
permitted  to  do  so)  in  competence  on  the  produce  of  its 
daily  labour.  The  quantity  of  its  store,  great  or  small,  is 
therefore  in  many  respects  indifferent  to  it,  and  cannot  be 
inferred  from  its  aspect.  Similarly  an  inactive  and  waste- 
ful population,  which  cannot  live  by  its  daily  labour,  but 
is  dependent,  partly  or  wholly,  on  consumption  of  its,  store, 
may  be  (by  various  difficulties,  hereafter  to  be  examined, 
in  realizing  or  getting  at  such  store)  retained  in  a state  of 
abject  distress,  though  its  possessions  may  be  immense. 
But  the  results  always  involved  in  the  magnitude  of  store 


40 


MUNERA  PELVERIS. 


are,  the  commercial  power  of  the  nation,  its  security,  and 
its  mental  character.  Its  commercial  power,  in  that  accord- 
ing to  the  quantity  of  its  store,  may  be  the  extent  of  its 
dealings;  its  security,  in  that  according  to  the  quantity 
of  its  store  are  its  means  of  sudden  exertion  or  sustained 
endurance  ; and  its  character,  in  that  certain  conditions  of 
civilization  cannot  be  attained  without  permanent  and 
continually  accumulating  store,  of  great  intrinsic  value, 
and  of  peculiar  nature.* 

55.  IS'ow,  seeing  that  these  three  advantages  arise  from 
largeness  of  store  in  proportion  to  population,  the  question 
arises  immediately,  “ Given  the  store — ^is  the  nation  enriched 
by  diminution  of  its  numbers  ? Are  a successful  national 
speculation,  and  a pestilence,  economically  the  same  thing? 

This  is  in  part  a sophistical  question ; such  as  it  would 
be  to  ask  whether  a man  was  richer  when  struck  by  disease 
which  must  limit  his  life  within  a predicable  period,  than 
he  was  when  in  health.  He  is  enabled  to  enlarge  his  cur- 
rent expenses,  and  has  for  all  purposes  a larger  sum  at  his 
immediate  disposal  (for,  given  the  fortune,  the  shorter  the 
life,  the  larger  the  annuity) ; yet  no  man  considers  himself 
richer  because  he  is  condemned  by  his  physician. 

56.  The  logical  reply  is  that,  since  Wealth  is  by  defini- 
tion only  the  means  of  life,  a nation  cannot  be  enriched 
by  its  own  mortality.  Or  in  shorter  words,  the  life  is  more 
than  the  meat ; and  existence  itself,  more  wealth  than  the 
means  of  existence.  Whence,  of  two  nations  who  have 

f*  More  especially,  works  of  great  art.] 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


41 


equal  store,  the  more  numerous  is  to  be  considered  the 
richer,  provided  the  type  of  the  inhabitant  be  as  high  (for, 
tliough  the  relative  bulk  of  their  store  be  less,  its  relative 
eflicienc}^,  or  the  amount  of  effectual  wealth,  must  be 
greater).  But  if  the  type  of  the  po]3ulation  be  deteri- 
orated by  increase  of  its  numbers,  we  have  evidence  of 
poverty  in  its  worst  influence;  and  then,  to  determine 
whether  the  nation  in  its  total  may  still  be  justifiably 
esteemed  rich,  we  must  set  or  weigh,  tlie  number  of  the 
poor  against  that  of  the  rich. 

To  effect  which  piece  of  scale-work,  it  is  of  course  neces- 
sary to  determine,  first,  who  are  poor  and  who  are  rich ; 
nor  this  only,  but  also  how  poor  and  how  rich  they  are. 
Which  will  prove  a curious  thermometrical  investigation ; 
for  we  shall  have  to  do  for  gold  and  for  silver,  what  we 
have  done  for  quicksilver ; — determine,  namely,  their 
freezing-point,  their  zero,  their  temperate  and  fever-heat 
points ; finally,  their  vaporescent  point,  at  which  riches, 
sometimes  explosively,  as  lately  in  America,  “ make  to 
themselves  wings  : ” — and  correspondently,  the  number  of 
degrees  helow  zero  at  which  poverty,  ceasing  to  brace 
with  any  wholesome  cold,  burns  to  the  bone.'^ 

[*  The  meaning  of  that,  in  plain  English,  is,  that  we  must  find  out 
how  far  poverty  and  riches  are  good  or  bad  for  people,  and  what  is  the 
difference  between  being  miserably  poor — so  as,  perhaps,  to  be  driven 
to  crime,  or  to  pass  life  in  suffering — and  being  blessedly  poor,  in  the 
sense  meant  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount.  For  I suppose  the  people 
who  believe  that  sermon,  do  not  think  (if  they  ever  honestly  ask  them- 
selves what  they  do  think),  either  that  Luke  vi.  24.  is  a merely  poetical 


42 


MIJNEEA  PULYERIS. 


57.  For  the  performance  of  these  operations,  in  the 
strictest  sense  scientific,  we  will  fimt  look  to  the  existing 
so-called  science  ” of  Political  Economy ; we  will  ask  it 
to  define  for  ns  the  comparatively  and  superlatively  rich, 
and  the  comparatively  and  superlatively  poor  ; and  on  its 
own  terms — if  any  terms  it  can  pronounce — examine,  in 
our  prosperous  England,  how  many  rich  and  how  many 
poor  people  there  are ; and  whether  the  quantity  and  in- 
tensity of  the  poverty  is  indeed  so  overbalanced  by  the 
quantity  and  intensity  of  wealth,  that  we  may  permit  our- 
selves a luxurious  blindness  to  it,  and  call  ourselves,  com- 
placently, a rich  country.  And  if  we  find  no  clear  defini- 
tion in  the  existing  science,  we  will  endeavour  for  ourselves 
to  fix  the  true  degrees  of  the  scale,  and  to  apply  them.* 

58.  Question  Third.  What  is  the  quantity  of  the  store 
in  relation  to  the  Currency  ? 

We  have  seen  that  the  real  worth  of  the  currency,  so 
far  as  dependent  on  its  relation  to  the  magnitude  of  the 
store,  may  vary,  within  certain  limits,  without  affecting  its 
worth  in  exchange.  The  diminution  or  increase  of  the 
represented  wealth  may  be  unperceived,  arid  tlie  cm-rency 
may  be  taken  either  for  more  or  less  than  it  is  truly  worth. 
Usually  it  is  taken  for  much  more  ; and  its  power  in  ex- 

exclamation,  or  that  the  Beatitude  of  Poverty  has  yet  been  attained  in 
St.  Martin’s  Lane  and  other  back  streets  of  London.] 

[ * Large  plans  ! — Eight  years  are  gone,  and  nothing  done  yet.  But 
I keep  my  purpose  of  making  one  day  this  balance,  or  want  of  balance, 
visible,  in  those  so  seldom  used  scales  of  Justice.] 


MUNEExV  PULVERIS. 


4; 


change,  or  credit-power,  is  thus  increased  up  to  a given 
strain  upon  its  relation  to  existing  wealth.  This  credit- 
power  is  of  chief  importance  in  the  thoughts,  because  most 
sharply  present  to  the  experience,  of  a mercantile  commu- 
nity : but  the  conditions  of  its  stability  * and  all  other  re- 
lations of  the  currency  to  the  material  store  are  entirely 
simple  in  principle,  if  not  in  action.  Far  other  than  sim- 
ple are  the  relations  of  the  currency  to  the  available  labour 
which  it  also  represents.  For  this  relation  is  involved  not 
only  with  that  of  the  magnitude  of  the  store  to  the  number, 
but  with  that  of  the  magnitude  of  the  store  to  the  mind, 
of  the  population.  Its  proportion  to  their  number,  and 
the  resulting  worth  of  currency,  are  calculable ; but  its 
proportion  to  their  will  for  labour  is  not.  The  worth  of 
the  piece  of  money  which  claims  a given  quantity  of  the 
store  is,  in  exchange,  less  or  greater  according  to  the 

* These  are  nearly  all  briefly  represented  by  the  image  used  for  the 
force  of  money  by  Dante,  of  mast  and  sail : — 

Quali  dal  vento  le  gonfiate  vele 
Caggiono  awolte,  poi  che  Falber  fiacca 
Tal  cadde  a terra  la  fiera  crudele. 

The  image  may  be  followed  out,  like  all  of  Dante’s,  into  as  close  de- 
tail as  the  reader  chooses.  Thus  the  stress  of  the  sail  must  be  propor- 
tioned to  the  strength  of  the  mast,  and  it  is  only  in  unforeseen  danger ' 
,that  a skilful  seaman  ever  carries  all  the  canvas  his  spars  will  bear ; 
states  of  mercantile  languor  are  like  the  flap  of  the  sail  in  a calm ; of 
mercantile  precaution,  like  taking  in  reefs ; and  mercantile  ruin  is  in- 
stant on  the  breaking  of  the  mast. 

[I  moan  by  credit-power,  the  general  impression  on  the  national 
mind  that  a sovereign,  or  any  other  coin,  is  worth  so  much  bread  and 
cheese — so  much  wine — so  much  horse  and  carriage — or  so  much  fine 
art : it  may  be  really  worth,  when  tried,  less  or  more  than  is  thought : 
the  thought  of  it  is  the  credit-power.] 


44 


MTTNEEA  PULVERIS. 


facility  of  obtaining  the  same  quantity  of  the  same  thing 
without  having  recourse  to  the  store.  In  other  words, 
it  depends  on  the  immediate  Cost  and  Price  of  the  thing. 
We  must  now,  therefore,  complete  the  definition  of 
these  terms. 

59.  All  cost  and  price  are  counted  in  Labour.  We 
must  know  first,  therefore,  what  is  to  be  counted  as  Labour. 

I have  already  defined  labour  to  be  the  Contest  of  the 
life  of  man  with  an  opposite.  Literally,  it  is  the  quantity 
of  Lapse,”  loss,  or  failure  of  hmnan  life,  caused  by  any 
effort.  It  is  usually  confused  with  effort  itself,  or  the 
application  of  power  (opera) ; but  there  is  much  effort 
which  is  merely  a mode  of  recreation,  or  of  pleasure. 
The  most  beautiful  actions  of  the  human  body,  and  the 
highest  results  of  the  human  intelligence,  are  conditions, 
or  achievements,  of  quite  unlaborious, — nay,  of  recrea- 
tive,— effort.  But  labour  is  the  suffering  in  effort.  It 
is  the  negative  quantity,  or  quantity  of  de-feat,  which 
has  to  be  counted  against  every  Feat,  and  of  de-fect  which 
has  to  be  counted  against  every  Fact,  or  Deed  of  men. 
In  brief,  it  is  “ that  quantity  of  our  toil  which  we  die  in.” 

We  might,  therefore,  d gyriori^  conjecture  (as  we  shall 
ultimately  find),  that  it  cannot  be  bought,  nor  sold. 
Everything  else  is  bought  and  sold  for  Labour,  but 
labour  itself  cannot  be  bought  nor  sold  for  anything, 
being  priceless.*  The  idea  that  it  is  a commodity  to  be 

* The  object  of  Political  Economy  is  not  to  buy,  nor  to  sell  labour, 
but  to  spare  it.  Every  attempt  to  buy  or  sell  it  is,  in  the  outcome, 


MUNERA  PTJLVERIS. 


45 


bought  or  sold,  is  the  alplia  and  omega  of  Politico-Econo- 
mic fallacy. 

60.  This  being  the  nature  of  labour,  the  “Cost”  of 
anything  is  the  quantity  of  labour  necessary  to  obtain 
it; — the  quantity  for  which,  or  at  which,  it  “stands” 
(constat).  It  is  literally  the  “ Constancy  ” of  the  thing ; — 
you  shall  win  it — move  it — come  at  it,  for  no  less  than 
this. 

Cost  is  measured  and  measurable  (using  the  accurate 
Latin  terms)  only  in  “labor,”  not  in  “ opera.” It  does 
not  matter  how  much  work  a thing  needs  to  produce  it ; 
it  matters  only  how  much  distress.  Generally  the  more 
the  power  it  requires,  the  less  the  distress ; so  that  the 
noblest  w^orks  of  man  cost  less  than  the  meanest. 

True  labour,  or  spending  of  life,  is  either  of  the  body, 
in  fatigue  c>r  pain ; of  the  temper  or  heart  (as  in  perse- 
verance of  search  for  things, — patience  in  waiting  for 

ineffectual ; so  far  as  successful,  it  is  not  sale,  but  Betrayal ; and  the 
purchase-money  is  a part  of  that  thirty  pieces  which  bought,  first  the 
greatest  of  labours,  and  afterwards  the  burial-field  of  the  Stranger ; 
for  this  purchase-money,  being  in  its  very  smallness  or  vileness  the 
exactly  measured  opposite  of  the  “vilisannona  amicorum,”  makes  all 
men  strangers  to  each  other. 

* Cicero’s  distinction,  “ sordidi  quaestus,  quorum  opera3,  non  quorum 
artes  emuntur,”  admirable  in  principle,  is  inaccurate  in  expression, 
because  Cicero  did  not  practically  know  how  much  operative  dexterity 
is  necessary  in  all  the  higher  arts  ; but  the  cost  of  this  dexterity  is  in- 
calculable. Be  it  great  or  small,  the  “cost”  of  the  mere  perfectness  of 
touch  in  a hammer-stroke  of  Donatello’s,  or  a pencil-touch  of  Cor- 
reggio’s, is  inestimable  by  any  ordinary  arithmetic. 

[Old  notes,  these,  more  embarrassing  I now  perceive,  than  elucida- 
tory ; but  right,  and  worth  retaining.] 


46 


MUNEEA  PULYERIS. 


them, — fortitude  or  degradation  in  suffering  for  them, 
and  the  like),  or  of  the  intellect.  All  these  kinds  of  la- 
bour are  supposed  to  be  included  in  the  general  term,  and 
the  quantity  of  labour  is  then  expressed  by  the  time  it 
lasts.  So  that  a unit  of  labour  is  “an  hour’s  work”  or  a 
day’s  work,  as  we  may  determine.* 

61.  Cost,  like  value,  is  both  intrinsic  and  effectual.  In- 
trinsic cost  is  that  of  getting  the  thing  in  the  right  way ; 
effectual  cost  is  that  of  getting  the  thing  in  the  way  we 
set  about  it.  But  intrinsic  cost  cannot  be  made  a subject 
of  analytical  investigation,  being  only  partially  discover- 
able, and  that  by  long  experience.  Effectual  cost  is  all 
that  the  political  Economist  can  deal  with ; that  is  to  say, 
the  cost  of  the  thing  under  existing  circumstances,  and  by 
known  processes. 

Cost,  being  dependent  much  on  application  of  method, 
varies  with  the  quantity  of  the  thing  wanted,  and  with  the 
number  of  persons  who  work  for  it.  It  is  easy  to  get  a 
little  of  some  things,  but  difficult  to  get  much ; it  is  im- 
possible to  get  some  things  with  few  hands,  but  easy  to 
get  them  with  many. 

62.  The  cost  and  value  of  things,  however  difficult  to 
determine  accm’ately,  are  thus  both  dependent  on  ascer- 
tainable physical  circumstances.f 

* Only  observe,  as  some  labour  is  more  destructive  of  life  than  other 
labour,  the  hour  or  day  of  the  more  destructive  toil  is  supposed  to  in- 
clude proportionate  rest.  Though  men  do  not,  or  cannot,  usually  take 
such  rest,  except  in  death. 

f There  is,  therefore,  observe,  no  such  thing  as  cheapness  (in  the 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


47 


But  price  is  dependent  on  the  human  will. 

Su^li  and  such  a thing  is  demonstrably  good  for  so 
much.  And  it  may  demonstrably  be  had  for  so  much. 

common  use  of  that  term),  without  some  error  or  injustice.  A thing-  is 
said  to  be  cheap,  not  because  it  is  common,  but  because  it  is  supposed 
to  be  sold  under  its  worth.  Everything-  has  its  proper  and  true  worth 
at  any  given  time,  in  relation  to  everything  else  ; and  at  that  worth 
should  be  bought  and  sold.  If  sold  under  it,  it  is  cheap  to  the  buyer 
by  exactly  so  much  as  the  seller  loses,  and  no  more.  Putrid  meat,  at 
twopence  a pound,  is  not  ‘ ‘ cheaper  ” than  wholesome  meat  at  seven- 
pence  a pound  ; it  is  probably  much  dearer  ; but  if,  by  watching  your 
opportunity,  you  can  get  the  wholesome  meat  for  sixpence  a pound,  it 
is  cheaper  to  you  by  a penny,  which  you  have  gained,  and  the  seller 
has  lost.  The  present  rage  for  cheapness  is  either,  therefore,  simply 
and  literally  a rage  for  badness  of  all  commodities,  or  it  is  an  attempt  to 
find  persons  whose  necessities  will  force  them  to  let  you  have  more  than 
you  should  for  your  money.  It  is  quite  easy  to  produce  such  persons, 
and  in  large  numbers  ; for  the  more  distress  there  is  in  a nation,  the 
more  cheapness  of  this  sort  you  can  obtain,  and  your  boasted  cheapness 
is  thus  merely  a measure  of  the  extent  of  your  national  distress. 

There  is,  indeed,  a condition  of  apparent  cheapness,  which  we 
have  some  right  to  be  triumphant  in ; namely,  the  real  reduction  in 
cost  of  articles  by  right  application  of  labour.  But  in  this  case  the 
article  is  only  cheap  with  reference  to  its  foi'mer  price  ; the  so-called 
cheapness  is  only  our  expression  for  the  sensation  of  contrast  between 
its  former  and  existing  prices.  So  soon  as  the  new  methods  of 
producing  the  article  are  established,  it  ceases  to  be  esteemed  either 
cheap  or  dear,  at  the  new  price,  as  at  the  old  one,  and  is  felt  to  be 
cheap  only  when  accident  enables  it  to  be  purchased  beneath  this  new 
value.  And  it  is  no  advantage  to  produce  the  article  more  easily, 
except  as  it  enables  you  to  multiply  your  population.  Cheapness  of 
this  kind  is  merely  the  discovery  that  more  men  can  be  maintained  on 
the  same  ground  ; and  the  question  how  many  you  will  maintain  in 
proportion  to  your  additional  means,  remains  exactly  in  the  same  terms 
that  it  did  before. 

A form  of  immediate  cheapness  results,  however,  in  many  cases, 
without  distress,  from  the  labour  of  a population  where  food  is  redund- 
ant, or  where  the  labour  by  which  the  food  is  produced  leaves  much 


48 


MUNEEA  PULVERIS. 


But  it  remains  questionable,  and  in  all  maimer  of  ways 
questionable,  whether  I choose  to  give  so  much.* 

This  choice  is  always  a relative  one.  It  is  a choice  to 
give  a price  for  this,  rather  than  for  that ; — a resolution  to 
have  the  thing,  if  getting  it  does  not  involve  the  loss  of  a 
better  thing.  Price  depends,  therefore,  not  only  on  the 
cost  of  the  commodity  itself,  but  on  its  relation  to  the 
cost  of  every  other  attainable  thing. 

Farther.  The  jpower  of  choice  is  also  a relative  one* 
It  depends  not  merely  on  om*  own  estimate  of  the  thing, 
but  on  everybody  else’s  estimate ; therefore  on  the  number 
and  force  of  the  will  of  the  conciuTent  buyers,  and  on  the 

idle  time  on  their  hands,  which  may  be  applied  to  the  production  of 
“ cheap  ” articles. 

All  such  phenomena  indicate  to  the  political  economist  places  where 
the  labour  is  unbalanced.  In  the  first  case,  the  just  balance  is  to  be 
effected  by  taking  labourers  from  the  spot  where  pressure  exists,  and 
sending  them  to  that  where  food  is  redundant.  In  the  second,  the 
cheapness  is  a local  accident,  advantageous  to  the  local  purchaser,  dis- 
advantageous to  the  local  producer.  It  is  one  of  the  first  duties  of  com- 
merce to  extend  the  market,  and  thus  give  the  local  producer  his  full 
advantage. 

Cheapness  caused  by  natural  accidents  of  harvest,  weather,  &c. , is 
always  counterbalanced,  in  due  time.,  by  natural  scarcity,  simHarlj 
caused.  It  is  the  part  of  wise  government,  and  healthy  commerce,  so 
to  provide  in  times  and  places  of  plenty  for  times  and  places  of  dearth, 
as  that  there  shall  never  be  waste,  nor  famine. 

Cheapness  caused  by  gluts  of  the  market  is  merely  a disease  of 
clumsy  and  wanton  commerce. 

* Price  has  been  already  defined  (p.  9)  to  be  the  quantity  of  labour 
which  the  possessor  of  a thing  is  willing  to  take  for  it.  It  is  best  to 
consider  the  price  to  be  that  fixed  by  the  possessor,  because  the  pos- 
sessor has  absolute  power  of  refusing  sale,  while  the  purchaser  has  no 
absolute  power  of  compelling  it ; but  the  effectual  or  market  price  is 
that  at  which  their  estimates  coincide. 


Ml/NERA  PULVERIS. 


49 


existing  quantity  of  the  thing  in  proportion  to  that  num- 
ber and  force. 

Hence  the  price  of  anything  depends  on  four  variables. 

(1.)  Its  cost. 

(2.)  Its  attainable  quantity  at  that  cost. 

(3.)  The  number  and  power  of  the  persons  who  want  it. 

(4.)  The  estimate  they  have  formed  of  its  desirableness. 

Its  value  only  affects  its  price  so  far  as  it  is  contem- 
plated in  this  estimate  ; perhaps,  therefore,  not  at  all. 

63.  How,  in  order  to  show  the  manner  in  which  price 
is  expressed  in  terms  of  a currency,  we  must  assume  these 
four  quantities  to  be  known,  and  the  estimate  of  desir- 
ableness,’’ commonly  called  the  Demand,  to  be  certain. 
We  will  take  the  number  of  persons  at  the  lovrest.  Let 
A and  B be  two  labourers  who  “ demand,”  that  is  to  say, 
have  resolved  to  labour  for,  two  articles,  a and  h.  Their 
demand  for  these  articles  (if  the  reader  likes  better,  he 
may  say  their  need)  is  to  be  conceived  as  absolute,  their 
existence  depending  on  the  getting  these  two  things. 
Suppose,  for  instance,  that  they  are  bread  and  fuel,  in  a 
cold  country,  and  let  a represent  the  least  quantity  of 
bread,  and  h the  least  quantity  of  fuel,  which  will  support 
a man’s  life  for  a day.  Let  a be  producible  by  an  hour’s 
labour,  but  h only  by  two  hours’  labour. 

Then  the  cost  of  a is  one  hour,  and  of  h two  (cost,  by 
our  definition,  being  expressible  in  terms  of  time).  If, 
therefore,  each  man  worked  both  for  his  corn  and  fuel, 
each  would  have  to  work  three  hours  a day.  But  they 


60 


MTJlfERA  PULVERIS. 


divide  the  labour  for  its  greater  ease.*  Then  if  A works 
three  hours,  he  produces  3 which  is  one  a more  than 
both  the  men  want.  And  if  B works  three  hours,  he  pro- 
duces only  \\  5,  or  half  of  I less  than  both  want.  But  if 
A work  three  hours  and  B six,  A has  3 «,  and  B has  3 J, 
a maintenance  in  the  right  proportion  for  both  for  a day 
and  half ; so  that  each  might  take  half  a day’s  rest.  But 
as  B has  worked  double  time,  the  whole  of  this  day’s  rest 
belongs  in  equity  to  him.  Therefore  the  just  exchange 
should  be,  A giving  two  a for  one  5,  has  one  a and  one  1)  / 
—maintenance  for  a day.  B giving  one  h for  two  has 
two  a and  two  — maintenance  for  two  days. 

But  B cannot  rest  on  the  second  day,  or  A would  be 
left  without  the  article  which  B produces.  Kor  is  there 
any  means  of  making  the  exchange  just,  unless  a third 
labourer  is  called  in.  Then  one  workman,  A,  produces 
and  two,  B and  C,  produce  h : — A,  working  three  hours, 
has  three  a /- — B,  three  hours,  h / — C,  three  hours,  h. 

B and  C each  give  half  of  5 for  and  all  have  their 
equal  daily  maintenance  for  equal  daily  work. 

To  carry  the  example  a single  step  farther,  let  three 
articles,  a,  5,  and  g be  needed. 

Let  a need  one  hour’s  work,  h two,  and  c four ; then  the 
day’s  work  must  be  seven  hours,  and  one  man  in  a day’s 
work  can  make  7 a,  or  3^  J,  or  If  c. 

* This  “ greater  ease  ” ought  to  be  allowed  for  by  a diminution  in 
the  times  of  the  divided  work ; but  as  the  proportion  of  times  would 
remain  the  same,  I do  not  introduce  this  unnecessary  complexity  into 
the  calculation. 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


51 


Therefore  one  A works  for  producing  ^ a ; two  B’s 
work  for  producing  7 J ; four  C’s  work  for  c,  produc- 
ing 7 G, 

A has  six  a to  spare,  and  gives  two  a for  one  and  four 
a for  one  c.  Each  B has  2^-  h to  spare,  and  gives  -J-  h for 
one  and  two  5 for  one  c. 

Each  C has  f of  c to  spare,  and  gives  i c for  one  J,  and 
J of  c for  one  a. 

And  all  have  their  day’s  maintenance. 

Generally,  therefore,  it  follows  that  if  the  demand  is 
constant,*  the  relative  prices  of  things  are  as  their  costs,  or. 
as  th(;  quantities  of  labour  involved  in  production. 

64.  Then,  in  order  to  express  their  prices  in  terms  of  a 
currency,  we  have  only  to  put  the  currency  into  the  form 
of  orders  for  a certain  quantity  of  any  given  article  (with 
us  it  is  in  the  form  of  orders  for  gold),  and  all  quantities 
of  other  articles  are  priced  by  the  relation  they  bear  to 
the  article  which  the  currency  claims. 

Blit  the  worth  of  the  currency  itself  is  not  in  the  slight- 
est degree  founded  more  on  the  worth  of  the  article  which 
it  either  claims  or  consists  in  (as  gold)  than  on  the  worth 
of  every  other  article  for  which  the  gold  is  exchangeable. 
It  is  just  as  accurate  to  sa}^,  “ so  many  pounds  are  worth  an 
acre  of  land,”  as  “ an  acre  of  land  is  worth  so  many 
pounds.”  The  worth  of  gold,  of  land,  of  houses,  and  of 
food,  and  of  all  other  things,  depends  at  any  moment  on 
the  existing  quantities  and  relative  demands  for  all  and 
* Compare  Unto  this  Last^  p.  115,  et  seq. 


52 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


each  ; and  a change  in  the  worth  of,  or  demand  for,  any 
one,  involves  an  instantaneously  correspondent  change  in 
the  worth  of,  and  demand  for,  all  the  rest ; — a change  as 
inevitable  and  as  accurately  balanced  (though  often  in  its 
process  as  untraceable)  as  the  change  in  volume  of  the 
outflowing  river  from  some  vast  lake,  caused  by  change  in 
the  volume  of  the  inflowing  streams,  though  no  eye  can 
trace,  nor  instrument  detect,  motion,  either  on  its  surface, 
or  in  the  depth. 

65.  Thus,  then,  the  real  working  power  or  worth  of  the 
currency  is  founded  on  the  entire  sum  of  the  relative  esti- 
mates formed  by  the  population  of  its  possessions ; a 
change  in  ^his  estimate  in  any  direction  (and  therefore 
every  change  in  the  national  character),  instantly  altei*s 
the  value  of  money,  in  its  second  great  function  of  com- 
manding labour.  But  we  must  alwa^^s  carefully  and  sternly 
distinguish  between  this  worth  of  currency,  dependent  on 
the  conceived  or  appreciated  value  of  what  it  represents, 
and  the  worth  of  it,  dependent  on  the  existence  of  what 
it  represents.  A currency  is  true^  or  false,  in  proportion 
to  the  security  with  which  it  gives  claim  to  the  possession 
of  land,  house,  horse,  or  picture  ; but  a currency  is  strong 
or  weahf  worth  much,  or  worth  little,  in  proportion  to 
the  degree  of  estimate  in  which  the  nation  holds  the  house, 

horse,  or  picture  which  is  claimed.  Thus  the  power  of  the 

[ * That  is  to  say,  the  love  of  money  is  founded  first  on  the  intense - 
ness  of  desire  for  given  things ; a youth  will  rob  the  till,  now-a-days, 
for  pantomime  tickets  and  cigars;  the  “strength”  of  the  currency 
being  irresistible  to  him,  in  consequence  of  his  desire  for  those  luxuries.] 


MrNERA  rULVERIS. 


58 


Englisli  currency  has  been,  till  of  late,  largely  based  on 
the  national  estimate  of  horses  and  of  wine  : so  that  a man 
might  always  give  any  price  to  furnish  choicely  his  stable, 
or  his  cellar  ; and  receive  public  approval  therefore : but 
if  he  gave  the  same  sum  to  furnish  his  library,  he  was 
called  mad,  or  a biblio-maniac.  And  although  he  might 
lose  his  fortune  by  his  horses,  and  his  health  or  life  by  his 
cellar,  and  rarely  lost  either  by  his  books,  he  was  yet  never 
called  a Hippo-maniac  nor  an  Oino-maniac ; but  only 
Biblio-maniac,  because  the  current  worth  of  money  wa?i 
understood  to  be  legitimately  founded  on  cattle  and  wine^ 
but  not  on  literature.  The  prices  lately  given  at  sales  foi> 
pictures  and  MSS.  indicate  some  tendency  to  change  in 
the  national  character  in  this  respect,  so  that  the  worth  ol 
the  currency  may  even  come  in  time  to  rest,  in  an  acknow 
ledged  manner,  somewhat  on  the  state  and  keeping  of  th(r 
Bedford  missal,  as  well  as  on  the  health  of  Caractacus  or 
Blink  Bonny ; and  old  pictures  be  considered  property,  no 
less  than  old  port.  They  might  have  been  so  before  now, . 
but  that  it  is  more  difficult  to  choose  the  one  than  the 
other. 

66.  How,  observe,  all  these  sources  of  variation  in  the 
power  of  the  currency  exist,  wholly  irrespective  of  the 
influences  of  vice,  indolence,  and  improvidence.  We 
have  hitherto  supposed,  throughout  the  analysis,  every 
professing  labourer  to  labour  honestly,  heartily,  and  in 
harmony  with  his  fellows.  We  have  now  to  bring  farther 
into  the  calculation  the  effects  of  relative  industry,  honour. 


64 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


and  foretliought ; and  thus  to  follow  out  the  bearings  of 
our  second  inquiry : Who  are  the  holders  of  the  Store  and 
Currency,  and  in  what  proportions  ? 

This,  however,  we  must  reserve  for  our  next  paper 
- — noticing  here  only  that,  however  distinct  the  several 
branches  of  the  subject  are,  radically,  they  are  so  inter- 
woven in  their  issues  that  we  cannot  rightly  treat  any  one, 
till  we  have  taken  cognizance  of  all.  Thus  the  need  of 
the  currency  in  proportion  to  number  of  population  is 
materially  influenced  by  the  probable  number  of  the  hold- 
ers in  proportion  to  the  non-holders ; and  this  again,  by 
the  number  of  holders  of  goods,  or  wealth,  in  proportion 
to  the  non-holders  of  goods.  For  as,  by  definition,  the 
currency  is  a claim  to  goods  which  are  not  possessed,  its 
quantity  indicates  the  number  of  claimants  in  proportion 
to  the  number  of  holders ; and  the  force  and  complexity 
of  claim.  For  if  the  claims  be  not  complex,  currency  as 
a means  of  exchange  may  be  very  small  in  quantity.  A 
sells  some  corn  to  B,  receiving  a promise  from  B to  pay 
in  cattle,  which  A then  hands  over  to  C,  to  get  some  wine. 
C in  due  time  claims  the  cattle  from  B ; and  B takes  back 
his  promise.  These  exchanges  have,  or  might  have  been, 
all  effected  with  a single  coiii  or  promise ; and  the  propor- 
tion of  the  currency  to  the  store  would  in  such  circum- 
stances indicate  only  the  circulating  vitality  of  it — that 
is  to  say,  the  quantity  and  convenient  divisibility  of  that 
part  of  the  store  which  the  habits  of  the  nation  keep  in 
circulation.  If  a cattle  breeder  is  content  to  live  with  his 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


55 


honseliold  chiefly  on  meat  and  milk,  and  does  not  want 
rich  furnitnre,  or  jewels,  or  books — if  a wine  and  corn 
grower  maintains  himself  and  his  men  chiefly  on  grapes 
and  bread ; — if  the  wives  and  daughters  of  families  weave 
and  spin  the  clothing  of  the  household,  and  the  nation,  as 
a whole,  remains  content  with  the  produce  of  its  own  soil 
and  the  work  of  its  own  hands,  it  has  little  occasion  for 
circulating  media.  It  pledges  and  promises  little  and  sel- 
dom ; exchanges  only  so  far  as  exchange  is  necessary  for 
life.  The  store  belongs  to  the  people  in  whose  hands  it  is 
found,  and  money  is  little  needed  either  as  an  expression 
of  right,  or  practical  means  of  division  and  exchange. 

67.  But  in  proportion  as  the  habits  of  the  nation  be- 
come complex  and  fantastic  (and  they  may  be  both,  with- 
out therefore  being  civilized),  its  circulating  medium  must 
increase  in  proportion  to  its  store.  If  every  one  wants 
a little  of  everything, — if  food  must  be  of  many  kindSj 
and  dress  of  many  fashions, — if  multitudes  live  by  work 
which,  ministering  to  fancy,  has  its  pay  measured  by 
fancy,  so  that  large  prices  will  be  given  by  one  person  for 
what  is  valueless  to  another, — if  there  are  great  inequali- 
ties of  knowledge,  causing  great  inequalities  of  estimate, 
— and,  finally,  and  worst  of  all,  if  the  currency  itself, 
from  its  largeness,  and  the  power  which  the  possession  of 
it  implies,  becomes  the  sole  object  of  desire  with  large 
numbers  of  the  nation,  so  that  the  holding  of  it  is  dis- 
puted among  them  as  the  main  object  of  life : — in  each 
and  all  of  these  cases,  the  currency  necessarily  enlarges 


50 


MUNEEA  PULVERIS. 


in  proportion  to  the  store;  and  as  a means  of  exchange 
and  division,  as  a bond  of  right,  and  as  an  object  of  pas- 
sion, has  a more  and  more  important  and  malignant  power 
c>ver  the  nation’s  dealings,  character,  and  life. 

Against  which  power,  when,  as  a bond  of  Kight,  it 
becomes  too  conspicuous  and  too  burdensome,  t-he  popular 
voice  is  apt  to  be  raised  in  a violent  and  irrational  man- 
ner, leading  to  revolution  instead  of  remedy.  Whereas 
all  possibility  of  Economy  depends  on  the  clear  assertion 
and  maintenance  of  this  bond  of  right,  however  burden- 
some. The  first  necessity  of  all  economical  government 
is  to  secure  the  unquestioned  and  unquestionable  working 
of  the  great  law  of  Property — ^that  a man  who  works  for 
a thing  shall  be  allowed  to  get  it,  keep  it,  and  consume  it, 
in  peace ; and  that  he  who  does  not  eat  his  cake  to-day, 
shall  be  seen,  without  grudging,  to  have  his  cake  to-mor- 
row. This,  I say,  is  the  first  point  to  be  secured  by  social 
law ; without  this,  no  political  advance,  nay,  no  political 
existence,  is  in  any  sort  possible.  Whatever  evil,  luxury, 
iniquity,  may  seem  to  result  from  it,  this  is  nevertheless 
the  first  of  all  Equities ; and  to  the  enforcement  of  this, 
by  law  and  by  police-truncheon,  the  nation  must  always 
primarily  set  its  mind — that  the  cupboard  door  may  have 
a firm  lock  to  it,  and  no  man’s  dinner  be  carried  off  by 
the  mob,  on  its  way  home  from  the  baker’s.  Which,  thus 
fearlessly  asserting,  we  shall  endeavour  in  next  paper  to 
consider  how  far  it  may  be  practicable  for  the  mob  itself, 
also,  in  due  breadth  of  dish,  to  have  dinners  to  carry  home. 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


57 


CHAPTER  III. 

COIN-KEEPING. 

<38.  It  will  be  seen  by  reference  to  the  last  chapter  that 
our  present  task  is  to  examine  the  relation  of  holders  of 
store  to  holders  of  currency ; and  of  both  to  those  who 
hold  neither.  In  order  to  do  this,  we  must  determine  on 
wdiich  side  we  are  to  place  substances  such  as  gold,  com- 
monly known  as  bases  of  currency.  By  aid  of  previous 
definitions  the  reader  will  now  be  able  to  understand 
closer  statements  than  have  yet  been  possible. 

69.  The  cuTTency  of  any  country  consists  of  every 
document  achnowledying  debt^  which  is  transferable  in 
the  country!^ 

This  transferableness  depends  upon  its  intelligibility 
and  credit.  Its  intelligibility  depends  chiefiy  on  the 
difficulty  of  hwgiiig  anything  like  it; — its  credit  much 
on  national  character,  but  ultimately  always  on  the 
existence  of  substantial  means  of  meeting  its  demand.^ 

[*  Remember  this  definition  : it  is  of  great  importance  as  opposed  to 
the  imperfect  ones  usually  given.  When  first  these  essays  were  pub- 
lished, I remember  one  of  their  reviewers  asking  contemptuously,  “ Is 
half -a- crown  a document  ? ” it  never  having  before  occurred  to  him  that 
a document  might  be  stamped  as  well  as  written,  and  stamped  on  silver 
as  well  as  on  parchment.] 

ff  I do  not  mean  the  demand  of  the  holder  of  a five -pound  note  for 


58 


MUNEEA  PULVERIS. 


As  the  degrees  of  transferableness  are  Yariable,  (some 
documents  passing  only  in  certain  places,  and  othei*s 
passing,  if  at  all,  for  less  than  their  inscribed  value),  both 
the  mass,  and,  so  to  speak,  fluidity,  of  the  currency,  are 
variable.  True  or  perfect  currency  flows  freely,  like  a 
pure  stream ; it  becomes  sluggish  or  stagnant  in  propor- 
tion to  the  quantity  of  less  transferable  matter  which 
mixes  with  it,  adding  to  its  bulk,  but  diminishing  its 
purity.  [Articles  of  commercial  value,  on  which  bills  are 
drawm,  increase  the  currency  indefinitely ; and  substances 
of  intrinsic  value  if  stamped  or  signed  without  restriction 
so  as  to  become  acknowledgments  of  debt,  increase  it 
indefinitely  also.]  Every  bit  of  gold  found  in  Australia, 
so  long  as  it  remains  uncoined,  is  an  ai’ticle  offered  for 
sale  like  any  other ; but  as  soon  as  it  is  coined  into 
pounds,  it  diminishes  the  value  of  every  pound  we  have 
now  in  our  pockets. 

TO.  ^ Legally  authorized  or  national  currency,  in  its  per- 
fect condition,  is  a form  of  public  acknowledgment  of 
debt,  so  regulated  and  divided  that  any  pei'son  present- 
ing a commodity  of  tried  worth  in  the  public  market, 
shall,  if  he  please,  receive  in  exchange  for  it  a document 
giving  him  claim  to  the  retmm  of  its  equivalent,  (1)  in 
any  place,  (2)  at  any  time,  and  (3)  in  any  kind. 

When  currency  is  quite  healthy  and  vital,  the  pei’sons 
entrusted  with  its  management  are  always  able  to  give 
on  demand  either, 

five  pounds,  but  the  demand  of  the  holder  of  a pound  for  a pound’s 
worth  of  something  good.  ] 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


50 


A.  Tlie  assigning  document  for  the  assigned  quantity 
cf  goods.  Or, 

B.  The  assigned  quantity  of  goods  for  the  assigning 
document. 

If  they  cannot  give  document  for  goods,  the  national 
exchange  is  at  fault. 

If  they  cannot  give  goods  for  document,  the  national 
credit  is  at  fault. 

The  nature  and  povrer  of  the  document  are  there- 
fore to  be  examined  under  the  three  relations  it  bears 
to  Place,  Time,  and  Kind. 

71.  (1.)  It  gives  claim  to  the  return  of  equivalent 
wealth  in  any  Place.  Its  use  in  this  function  is  to 
save  carriage,  so  that  parting  with  a bushel  of  corn 
in  London,  we  may  receive  an  order  for  a bushel  of 
corn  at  the  Antipodes,  or  elsewhere.  To  be  perfect 
in  this  use,  the  substance  of  currency  must  be  to 
the  maximum  portable,  credible,  and  intelligible.  Its 
non-acceptance  or  discredit  results  always  from  some 
form  of  ignorance  or  dishonour:  so  far  as  such  inter- 
ruptions rise  out  of  differences  in  denomination,  there 
is  no  ground  for  their  continuance  among  civilized  na- 
|iions.  It  may  be  convenient  in  one  country  to  use 
chiefly  copper  for  coinage,  in  another  silver,  and  in  an- 
other gold, — reckoning  accordingly  in  centimes,  francs, 
or  zecchins:  but  that  a franc  should  be  different  in 
weight  and  value  from  a shilling,  and  a zwanziger  vary 
from  both,  is  wanton  loss  of  commercial  power. 


60 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


72.  (2.)  It  gives  claim  to  the  return  of  equivalent 
wealth  at  any  Time,  In  this  second  use,  currency  is 
the  exponent  of  accumulation : it  renders  the  laying-up 
of  store  at  the  command  of  individuals  unlimitedly  pos- 
sible ; — whereas,  but  for  its  intervention,  all  gathering 
would  be  confined  within  certain  limits  by  the  bulk  of 
property,  or  by  its  decay,  or  the  difficulty  of  its  guar- 
dianship. “ I will  pull  down  my  barns  and  build 
greater,”  cannot  be  a daily  saying ; and  all  matei  ial  in- 
vestment is  enlargement  of  care.  The  national  cur- 
rency transfers  the  guardianship  of  the  store  to  many; 
and  preserves  to  the  original  producer  the  right  of  re- 
entering on  its  possession  at  any  future  period. 

73.  (3.)  It  gives  claim  (practical,  though  not  legal)  to 
the  return  of  equivalent  wealth  in  any  Kind,  It  is  a 
transferable  right,  not  merely  to  this  or  that,  but  to 
anything;  and  its  power  in  this  function  is  propor- 
tioned to  the  range  of  choice.  If  you  give  a child 
an  apple  or  a toy,  you  give  him  a determinate  pleas- 
ure, but  if  yon  give  him  a penny,  an  indeterminate 
one,  proportioned  to  the  range  of  selection  offered  by 
the  shops  in  the  village.  The  power  of  the  world’s 
(jurrency  is  similarly  in  proportion  to  the  openness  of 
the  world’s  fair,  and,  commonly,  enhanced  by  the  bril- 
liancy of  external  aspect,  rather  than  solidity  of  its 
wares. 

74.  We  have  said  that  the  currency  consists  of  orders 
for  equivalent  goods.  If  equivalent,  their  quality  must 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


61 


be  guaranteed.  The  kinds  of  goods  chosen  for  specific 
claim  must,  therefore,  be  capable  of  test,  while,  also, 
that  a store  may  be  kept  in  hand  to  meet  the  call  of 
the  currency,  smallness  of  bulk,  with  great  relative 
value,  is  desirable;  and  indestructibility,  over  at  least  a 
certain  period,  essential. 

Such  indestructibility,  and  facility  of  being  tested, 
are  united  in  gold;  its  intrinsic  value  is  great,  and  its 
imaginary  value  greater;  so  that,  partly  through  indo- 
lence, partly  through  necessity  and  want  of  organiza- 
tion, most  nations  have  agreed  to  take  gold  for  the 
only  basis  of  their  currencies ; — with  this  grave  disad- 
vantage, that  its  portability  enabling  the  metal  to  be- 
come an  active  part  of  the  medium  of  exchange,  the 
stream  of  the  currency  itself  becomes  opaque  with  gold 
— half  currency  and  half  commodity,  in  unison  of 
functions  which  partly  neuti’alize,  partly  enhance  each 
other’s  force. 

75.  They  partly  neutralize,  since  in  so  far  as  the 
gold  is  commodity,  it  is  bad  currency,  because  liable 
to  sale ; and  in  so  far  as  it  is  currency,  it  is  bad 
commodity,  because  its  exchange  value  interferes  with 
its  practical  use.  Especially  its  employment  in  the 
higher  branches  of  the  arts  becomes  unsafe  on  account 
of  its  liability  to  be  melted  down  for  exchange. 

Again.  They  partly  enhance,  since  in  so  far  as  the 
gold  has  acknowledged  intrinsic  value,  it  is  good  cur- 
rency, because  everywhere  acceptable ; and  in  so  far  as 


62 


MUNERA  PULVEBIS. 


it  has  legal  exchangeable  value,  its  worth  as  a commo- 
dity is  increased.  We  want  no  gold  in  the  form  of 
dust  or  crystal;  but  we  seek  for  it  coined,  because 
in  that  form  it  will  pay  baker  and  butcher.  And 
this  worth  in  exchange  not  only  absorbs  a large 
quantity  in  that  use,*  but  greatly  increases  the  effect 
on  the  imagination  of  the  quantity  used  in  the  arts. 
Thus,  in  brief,  the  force  of  the  functions  is  increased, 
but  their  precision  blunted,  by  their  unison. 

76.  These  inconveniences,  however,  attach  to  gold  as  a 
basis  of  currency  on  account  of  its  portability  and  pre- 
ciousness. But  a far  greater  inconvenience  attaches  to  it 
as  the  only  legal  basis  of  currency.  Imagine  gold  to  be 
only  attainable  in  masses  weighing  several  pounds  each, 
and  its  value,  like  that  of  malachite  or  marble,  propor- 
tioned to  its  largeness  of  bulk; — it  could  not  then  get 

* [Read  and  think  over,  the  following  note  very  carefully.] 

The  waste  of  labour  in  obtaining  the  gold,  though  it  cannot  be 
estimated  by  help  of  any  existing  data,  may  be  understood  in  its 
bearing  on  entire  economy  by  supposing  it  limited  to  transactions 
between  two  persons.  If  two  farmers  in  Australia  have  been  ex- 
changing corn  and  cattle  with  each  other  for  years,  keeping  their 
accounts  of  reciprocal  debt  in  any  simple  way,  the  sum  of  the  pos- 
sessions of  either  would  not  be  diminished,  though  the  part  of  it 
which  was  lent  or  borrowed  were  only  reckoned  by  marks  on  a 
stone,  or  notches  on  a tree ; and  the  one  counted  himself  accord- 
ingly, so  many  scratches,  or  so  many  notches,  better  than  the  other. 
But  it  would  soon  be  seriously  diminished  if,  discovering  gold  in 
their  fields,  each  resolved  only  to  accept  golden  counters  for  a reck- 
oning; and  accordingly,  whenever  he  wanted  a sack  of  corn  or  a 
cow,  was  obliged  to  go  and  wash  sand  for  a week  before  he  could 
get  the  means  of  giving  a receipt  for  them. 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


03 


itself  confused  with  the  currency  in  daily  use,  but  it 
might  still  remain  as  its  basis ; and  this  second  inconveni- 
ence would  still  affect  it,  namely,  that  its  significance  as 
an  expression  of  debt  varies,  as  that  of  every  other  article 
would,  with  the  popular  estimate  of  its  desirableness,  and 
with  the  quantity  offered  in  the  market.  My  power  of 
obtaining  other  goods  for  gold  depends  always  on  the 
strength  of  public  passion  for  gold,  and  on  the  limitation 
of  its  quantity,  so  that  when  either  of  two  things  happen 
— that  the  world  esteems  gold  less,  or  finds  it  more  easily 
— my  right  of  claim  is  in  that  degree  effaced  / and  it  has 
been  even  gravely  maintained  that  a discovery  of  a 
mountain  of  gold  would  cancel  the  National  Debt;  in 
other  words,  that  men  may  be  paid  for  w^hat  costs  much 
in  what  costs  nothing. . Now,  it  is  true  that  there  is  little 
chance  of  sudden  convulsion  in  this  respect;  the  world 
will  not  so  rapidly  increase  in  wisdom  as  to  despise  gold 
on  a sudden ; and  perhaps  may  [for  a little  time]  desire 
it  more  eagerly  the  more  easily  it  is  obtained  ; neverthe- 
less, the  right  of  debt  ought  not  to  rest  on  a basis  of 
imagination ; nor  should  the  frame  of  a national  currency 
vibrate  with  every  miser’s  panic,  and  eveiy  merchant’s 
imprudence. 

77.  There  are  two  methods  of  avoiding  this  insecurity, 
which  would  have  been  .fallen  upon  long  ago,  if,  instead 
of  calculating  the  conditions  of  the  supply  of  gold,  men 
had  only  considered  how  the  w^orld  might  live  and  man- 


64 


MUNERA  PULVERK. 


age  its  affairs  without  gold  at  all.*  One  is,  to  hase  the 
currency  on  substances  of  truer  intrinsic  value ; the  other, 
to  base  it  on  several  substances  instead  of  one.  If  I can 
only  claim  gold,  the  discovery  of  a golden  mountain 
starves  me  ; but  if  I can  claim  bread,  the  discovery  of  a 
continent  of  corn-fields  need  not  trouble  me.  If,  how- 
ever, I wish  to  exchange  my  bread  for  other  things,  a 
good  harvest  will  for  the  time  limit  my  power  in  thi-s 
respect ; but  if  I can  claim  either  bread,  iron,  or  silk  at 
pleasure,  the  standard  of  value  has  three  feet  instead  of 
one,  and  will  be  proportionately  firm.  Thus,  ultimately, 
the  steadiness  of  currency  depends  upon  the  breadth  of 
its  base ; but  the  difficulty  of  organization  increasing 
with  this  breadth,  the  discovery  of  the  condition  at  once 
safest  and  most  convenient  f can  only  be  by  long  analysis, 
which  must  for  the  present  be  deferred.  Gold  or  silver  J 

* It  is  difficult  to  estimate  the  curious  futility  of  discussions  such  as 
that  which  lately  occupied  a section  of  the  British  Association,  on  the 
absorption  of  gold,  while  no  one  can  produce  even  the  simplest  of  the 
data  necessary  for  the  inquiry.  To  take  the  first  occurring  one, — ^What 
means  have  we  of  ascertaining  the  weight  of  gold  employed  this  year  in 
the  toilettes  of  the  women  of  Europe  (not  to  speak  of  Asia)  ; and,  sup- 
posing it  known,  what  means  of  conjecturing  the  weight  by  v/hich,  next 
year,  their  fancies,  and  the  changes  of  style  among  their  jewellers,  will 
diminish  or  increase  it  ? 

f See,  in  Pope’s  epistle  to  Lord  Bathurst,  his  sketch  of  the  difficul- 
ties and  uses  of  a currency  literally  “ pecuniary  ” — (consisting  of  herds 
of  cattle.) 

“ His  Grace  will  game— to  White’s  a bull  be  led,”  &c. 

X Perhaps  both ; perhaps  silver  only.  It  may  be  found  expedient 
ultimately  to  leave  gold  free  for  use  in  the  arts.  As  a means  of  reckon- 
ing, the  standard  might  be,  and  in  some  cases  has  already  been,  entirely 
ideal. — See  Mill’s  Political  Economy^  book  iii.  chap,  vii.  at  beginning. 


MUNERA  rULYERTS. 


65 


may  always  be  retained  in  limited  use,  as  a luxury  of 
coinage  and  questionless  standard,  of  one  weight  and  alloy 
among  all  nations* varying  only  in  the  die.  The  purity 
of  coinage,  when  metallic,  is  closely  indicative  of  the 
honesty  of  the  system  of  revenue,  and  even  of  the  general 
dignity  of  the  State.* 

78.  Whatever  the  article  or  articles  may  be  \vhich  the 

national  currency  promises  to  pay,  a premium  on  that 
article  indicates  bankruptcy  of  the  government  in  that 
proportion,  the  division  of  its  assets  being  restrained 
only  by  the  remaining  confidence  of  the  holders  of  notes 
in  the  return  of  prosperity  to  the  firm.  Currencies  of 
forced  accej^tance,  or  of  unlimited  issue,  are  merely  vari- 
ous modes  of  disguising  taxation,  and  delaying  its  pres- 
sure, until  it  is  too  late  to  interfere  with  the  cause  of 

pressure.  To  do  away  with  the  possibility  of  such  dis- 

guise would  have  been  among  the  first  results  of  a true 
economical  science,  had  any  such  existed  ; but  there  have 
been  too  many  motives  for  the  concealment,  so  long  as  it 
could  by  any  artifices  be  maintained,  to  permit  hitherto 
even  the  founding  of  such  a science. 

79.  And  indeed,  it  is  only  through  evil  conduct,  wil- 

fully persisted  in,  that  there  is  any  embarrassment,  either 
in  the  theory  or  working  of  currency.  Iso  exchequer  is 

* The  purity  of  the  drachma  and  zecchin  were  not  without  signifi- 

cance of  the  state  of  intellect,  art,  and  policy,  both  in  Athens  and  V en- 
ice ; — a fact  first  impressed  upon  me  ten  years  ago,  when,  in  taking 
daguerreotypes  at  V enice,  I found  no  purchaseable  gold  pure  enough  to 
gild  them  with,  except  that  of  the  old  Venetian  zecchin. 


66 


MTJNEEA  EULVEEIS. 


ever  embairassed,  nor  is  any  financial  question  difficiilt 
of  solution,  when  people  keep  their  practlcaJiDXLest,  and 
their  heads  cool.  But  when  governments  lose  all  office 
of  pilotage,  protection,  or  scrutiny  ; and  live  only  in 
magnificence  of  antliorized  larceny,  and  polished  men- 
dicity ; or  when  the  people,  choosing  Specnlation  (the  s 
nsnally  redundant  in  the  spelling)  instead  of  Toil,  visit 
no  dishonesty  with  chastisement,  that  each  may  with  im- 
punity take  his  dishonest  tnrn;-“there  are  no  tricks  of 
financial  terminology  that  will  save  them ; all  signature 
and  mintage  do  hnt  magnify  the  ruin  they  retard  ;■  and 
even  the  riches  that  remain,  stagnant  or  current,  change 
only  from  the  slime  of  Avernns  to  the  sand  of  Phlegethon 
‘ — qtdcks>and  at  the  embouchure  ; — land  fluently  recom- 
mended by  recent  auctioneers  as  “eligible  for  building 
leases.” 

80.  Finally,  then,  the  power  of  true  currency  is  four- 
fold. 

(1.)  Credit  power.  Its  worth  in  exchange,  dependent 
on  public  opinion  of  the  stability  and  honesty  of  the 
issuer. 

(2.)  Beal  worth.  Supposing  the  gold,  or  whatever  else 
the  currency  expressly  promises,  to  be  required  from 
the  issuer,  for  all  his  notes ; and  that  the  call  cannot  be 
met  in  full.  Then  the  actual  worth  of  the  document 
would  be,  and  its  actual  worth  at  any  moment  is,  there- 
fore to  be  defined  as,  what  the  division  of  the  assets  of 
the  issuer  would  produce  for  it. 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


67 


(3.)  The  exchange  power  of  its  base.  Granting  that 
we  can  get  five  pounds  in  gold  for  onr  note,  it  remains  a 
question  how  mu(;h  of  other  things  we  can  get  for  five 
pounds  in  gold.  The  more  of  other  things  exist,  and  the 
less  gold,  the  greater  this  power. 

(4.)  The  power  over  labour,  exercised  by  the  given 
quantity  of  the  base,  or  of  the  things  to  be  got  for  it. 
The  question  in  this  case  is,  how  much  work,  and  (ques- 
tion of  questions !)  whose  work,  is  to  be  had  for  the  food 
which  five  pounds  will  buy.  This  depends  on  the  number 
of  the  population,  on  their  gifts,  and  on  their  disposi- 
tions, with  which,  down  to  their  slightest  humours,  and  up 
to  their  strongest  impulses,  the  power  of  the  currency 
varies. 

81.  Such  being  the  main  conditions  of  national  cur- 
rency, we  proceed  to  examine  those  of  the  total  currency, 
under  the  broad  definition,-  “ transferable  acknowledg- 
ment of  debt ; ” * among  the  many  forms  of  which  there 

* Under  which  term,  observe,  we  include  all  documents  of  debt 
which,  being  honest,  might  be  transferable,  though  they  practically  are 
not  transferred ; while  we  exclude  all  documents  which  are  in  reality 
worthless,  though  in  fact  transferred  temporarily,  as  bad  money  is. 
The  document  of  honest  debt,  not  transferred,  is  merely  to  paper  cur- 
rency as  gold  withdrawn  from  circulation  is  to  that  of  bullion.  Much 
confusion  has  crept  into  the  reasoning  on  this  subject  from  the  idea  that 
the  withdrawal  from  circulation  is  a definable  state,  whereas  it  is  a 
graduated  state,  and  indefinable.  The  sovereign  in  my  pocket  is  with- 
drawn from  circulation  as  long  as  I choose  to  keep  it  there.  It  is  no 
otherwise  withdrawn  if  I bury  it,  nor  even  if  I choose  to  make  it,  and 
others,  into  a golden  cup,  and  drink  out  of  them  ; since  a rise  in  the 
price  of  the  wine,  or  of  other  things,  may  at  any  time  cause  me  to  melt 
the  cup  and  throw  it  back  into  currency  ; and  the  bullion  operates  on 


68 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


are  in  effect  only  two,  distinctly  opposed ; namely,  tlie 
acknowledgments  of  debts  which  wdll  be  paid,  and  of 
debts  wdiich  will  not.  Documents,  whether  in  whole  or 
part,  of  bad  debt,  being  to  those  of  good  debt  as  bad 
money  to  bullion,  we  put  for  the  present  these  forms  of 
imposture  aside  (as  in  analysing  a metal  we  should  wash 
it  clear  of  dross),  and  then  range,  in  their  exact  quantities, 
the  true  currency  of  the  country  on  one  side,  and  the 
store  or  property  of  the  country  on  the  other.  We  place 
gold,  and  all  such  substances,  on  the  side  of  documents,  as 
far  as  they  operate  by  signature ; — on  the  side  of  store  as 
far  as  they  operate  by  value.  Then  the  currency  repre- 
sents the  quantity  of  debt  in  the  country,  and  the  store  the 
quantity  of  its  possession.  The  ownership  of  all  the 
property  is  divided  between  the  holders  of  currency  and 
holders  of  store,  and  whatever  the  claiming  value  of  the 
currency  is  at  any  moment,  that  value  is  to  be  deducted 
from  the  riches  of  the  store-holders. 

82.  Farther,  as  true  currency  represents  by  definition 

the  prices  of  the  things  in  the  market  as  directly,  though  not  as  forcibly, 
while  it  is  in  the  form  of  a cup  as  it  does  in  the  form  of  a sovereign. 
No  calculation  can  be  founded  on  my  humour  in  either  case.  If  I like 
to  handle  rouleaus,  and  therefore  keep  a quantity  of  gold,  to  play  with, 
in  the  form  of  jointed  basaltic  columns,  it  is  all  one  in  its  effect  on  the 
market  as  if  I kept  it  in  the  form  of  twisted  filigree,  or,  steadily 
“amicus  lamnse,”  beat  the  narrow  gold  pieces  into  broad  ones,  and 
dined  off  them.  The  probability  is  greater  that  I break  the  rouleau 
than  that  I melt  the  plate ; but  the  increased  probability  is  not  calcula- 
ble.' Thus,  documents  are  only  withdrawn  from  the  currency  when 
cancelled,  and  bullion  when  it  is  so  effectually  lost  as  that  the  pro- 
bability of  finding  it  is  no  greater  than  of  finding  new  gold  in  the  mine. 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


69 


debts  which  will  be  paid,  it  represents  either  the  debtor’s 
wealth,  or  his  ability  and  willingness;  that  is  to  say, 
either  wealth  existing  in  his  hands  transferred  to  him  by 
the  creditor,  or  wealth  which,  as  he  is  at  some  time  surely 
to  return  it,  he  is  either  increasing,  or,  if  diminishing,  has 
the  will  and  strength  to  reproduce.  A sound  currency 
therefore,  as  by  its  increase  it  represents  enlarging  debt, 
represents  also  enlarging  means ; but  in  this  curious  way,., 
that  a certain  quantity  of  it  marks  the  deficiency  of  the- 
wealth  of  the  country  from  what  it  would  have  been  rf, 
that  currency  had  not  existed.*  In  this  respect  it  is  like* 
the  detritus  of  a mountain  ; assume  that  it  lies  at  a fixed' 
angle,  and  the  more  the  detritus,  the  larger  must  be  the- 
mountain;  but  it  would  have  been  larger  still,  had  there 
been  none. 

83.  Farther,  though,  as  above  stated,  every  man  possess- 
ing money  has  usually  also  some  property  beyond  what  is 

* For  example,  suppose  an  active  peasant,  having  got  M's  ground  into 
good  order  and  built  himself  a comfortable  house,  finding  time  still  on 
his  hands,  sees  one  of  his  neighbours  little  able  to  work,  and  ill-lodged, 
and  offers  to  built  him  also  a house,  and  to  put  his  land  in  order,  on 
condition  of  receiving  for  a given  period  rent  for  the  building  and  tithe 
of  the  fruits.  The  offer  is  accepted,  and  a document  given  promissory 
of  rent  and  tithe.  This  note  is  money.  It  can  only  be  good  money  ifi 
the  man  who  has  incurred  the  debt  so  far  recovers  his  strength  as  to  be ' 
able  to  take  advantage  of  the  help  he  has  received,  and  meet  the  de- 
mand of  the  note ; if  he  lets  his  house  fall  to  ruin,  and  his  field  to 
waste,  his  promissory  note  will  soon  be  valueless  : but  the  existence  of 
the  note  at  all  is  a consequence  of  his  not  having  worked  so  stoutly  as 
the  other.  Let  him  gain  as  much  as  to  be  able  to  pay  back  the  entire 
debt ; the  note  is  cancelled,  and  we  have  twa  rich  store-holders  and  no 
currency. 


70 


MUNEKA  PULVEKIS. 


necessary  for  his  immediate  wants,  and  men  possessing 
property  nsnally  also  hold  currency  beyond  what  is  neces- 
sary for  their  immediate  exchanges,  it  mainly  determines 
the  class  to  which  they  belong,  whether  in  their  eyes  the 
money  is  an  adjunct  of  the  property,  or  the  property  of 
the  money.  In  the  first  case  the  holder’s  pleasure  is  in  his 
possessions,  and  in  his  money  subordinately,  as  the  means 
of  bettering  or  adding  to  them.  In  the  second,  his 
pleasure  in  his  money,  and  in  his  possessions  only  as 
representing  it.  (In  the  first  case  the  money  is  as  an 
atmosphere  surrounding  the  wealth,  rising  from  it  and 
raining  back  upon  it ; but  in  the  second,  it  is  as  a deluge, 
with  the  wealth  fioating,  and  for  the  most  part  perishing 
in  it.*)  The  shortest  distinction  between  the  men  is  that 
the  one  wishes  always  to  buy,  and  the  other  to  sell. 

84:.  Such  being  the  great  relations  of  the  classes, 
their  several  characters  are  of  the  highest  importance  to 
the  nation ; for  on  the  character  of  the  store-holders 
chiefiy  depend  the  preservation,  display,  and  serviceable- 
ness of  its  wealth;  on  that  of  the  currency-holders,  its 
distribution ; on  that  of  both,  its  reproduction. 

— 'We  shall,  therefore,  ultimately  find  it  to  be  of  in- 
comparably greater  importance  to  the  nation  in  whose 
hands  the  thing  is  put,  than  how  much  of  it  is  got ; 
and  that  the  character  of  the  holders  may  be  conjectured 

[*  You  need  not  trouble  yourself  to  make  out  the  sentence  in  paren- 
thesis, unless  you  like,  but  do  not  think  it  is  mere  metaphor.  It  states 
a fact  which  I could  not  have  stated  so  shortly,  but  by  metaphor.] 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


71 


by  the  quality  of  the  store ; for  such  and  such  a man 
always  asks  for  such  and  such  a thing;  nor  only 
asks  for  it,  but  if  it  ('.an  be  bettered,  betters  it : so 
that  possession  and  possessor  reciprocally  act  on  each 
other,  through  the  entire  sum  of  national  possession. 
The  base  nation,  asking  for  base  things,  sinks  daily 
to  deeper  vileness  of  nature  and  weakness  in  use  ; while 
the  noble  nation,  asking  for  noble  things,  rises  daily 
into  diviner  eminence  in  both ; the  tendency  to  degra- 
dation being  surely  marked  by  ara^ia ; ” that  is  to 
say,  (expanding  the  Greek  thought),  by  carelessness  as 
to  the  hands  in  which  things  are  put,  consequent  dispute 
for  the  acquisition  of  them,  disorderliness  in  accumula- 
tion of  them,  inaccuracy  in  estimate  of  them,  and  blunt- 
ness in  conception  as  to  the  entire  nature  of  possession. 

85.  The  currency-holders  always  increase  in  number 
and  influence  in  proportion  to  the  bluntness  of  nature 
and  clumsiness  of  the  store-holders;  for  the  less  use 
people  can  make  of  things,  the  more  they  want  of 
them,  and  the  sooner  weary  of  them,  and  want  to 
change  them  for  something  else ; and  all  frequency  of 
change  increases  the  quantity  and  power  of  currency. 
The  large  currency-holder  himself  is  essentially  a person 
wdio  never  has  been  able  to  make  up  his  mind  as  to 
what  he  will  have,  and  proceeds,  therefore,  in  vague 
collection  and  aggregation,  with  more  and  more  infuriate 
passion,  urged  by  complacency  in  progress,  vacancy  in 
idea,  and  pride  of  conquest. 


72 


MUNERA  PULVEEIS. 


While,  however,  there  is  this  obscurity  in  the  nature 
of  possession  of  currency,  there  is  a charm  in  the 
seclusion  of  it,  wiiich  is  to  some  people  very  enticing. 
In  the  enjoyment  of  real  property,  others  must  partly 
share.  The  groom  has  some  enjoyment  of  the  stud, 
and  the  gardener  of  the  garden;  but  the  money  is,  or 
seems,  shut  up ; it  is  wholly  enviable.  Ho  one  else  can 
haA^e  part  in  any  complacencies  arising  from  it. 

The  power  of  arithmetical  comparison  is  also  a great 
thing  to  unimaginative  people.  They  know  always  they 
are  so  much  better  than  they  were,  in  money ; so  much 
better  than  others,  in  money ; but  wit  cannot  be  so 
compared,  nor  character.  My  neighbour  cannot  be 
convinced  that  I am  wiser  than  he  is,  but  he  can, 
that  1 am  worth  so  much  more;  and  the  universality 
of  the  conviction  is  no  less  flattering  than  its  clearness. 
Only  a few  can  understand, — none  measure  — and  feAV 
will  Avillingly  adore,  superiorities  in  other  things ; but 
everybody  can  understand  money,  e\^erybody  can  count 
it,  and  most  will  worship  it. 

86.  How,  these  various  temptations  to  accumulation 
would  be  politically  harmless  if  what  was  vainly 
accumulated  had  any  fair  chance  of  being  wisely  spent. 
For  as  accumulation  cannot  go  on  for  ever,  but  must 
some  day  end  in  its  reverse— if  this  reverse  w^ere  indeed 
a beneflcial  distribution  and  use,  as  irrigation  from 
reservoir,  the  fever  of  gathering,  though  perilous  to 
the  gatherer,  might  be  serviceable  to  the  community. 


MUNEEA  rULVERIS. 


78 


But  it  constantly  happens  (so  constantly,  that  it  may 
be  stated  as  a political  law  having  few  exceptions), 
that  what  is  unreasonably  gathered  is  also  unreasonal)ly 
spent  by  the  persons  into  whose  hands  it  finally  falls. 
Very  frequently  it  is  spent  in  war,  or  else  in  a stupifying 
luxury,  twice  hurtful,  both  in  being  indulged  by  the 
rich  and  witnessed  by  .the  poor.  So  that  the  mol  tener 
and  mal  dare  are  as  correlative  as  complementary 
colours;  and  the  circulation  of  wealth,  which  ought 
to  be  soft,  steady,  strong,  far-sweeping,  and  full  of 
warmth,  like  the  Gulf  stream,  being  narrowed  into 
an  eddy,  and  concentrated  on  a point,  changes  into  the 
alternate  suction  and  surrender  of  Charybdis.  Which 
is  indeed,  I doubt  not,  the  true  meaning  of  that  marvel- 
lous fable,  “ infinite,”  as  Bacon  said  of  it,  “ in  matter  of 
meditation.”  * 

87.  It  is  a strange  habit  of  wise  humanity  to  speak  j 
in  enigmas  only,  so  that  the  highest  truths  and  usefullest  r 
laws  must  be  hunted  for  through  whole  picture-galleries 
of  dreams,  which  to  the  vulgar  seem  dreams  only.  ^ THus^ 
Homer,  the  Greek  tragedians,  Plato,  Dante,  Chaucer, 
Shakspeare,  and  Goethe,  have  hidden  all  that  is  chiefly 
serviceable  in  their  work,  and  in  all  the  various  literature 
they  absorbed  and  re-embodied,  under  types  which  have 
rendered  it  quite  useless  to  the  multitude.  Wliat  is  worse, 

[ * What  follows,  to  the  end  of  the  chapter,  was  a note  only,  in  the 
first  printing ; but  for  after  service,  it  is  of  more  value  than  any  other 
part  of  the  book,  so  I have  put  it  into  the  main  text.] 


T4 


MUNEEA  PULVEKIS. 


tlie  two  primal  declarers  of  moral  discovery,  Homer  and 
Plato,  are  partly  at  issue;  for  Plato’s  logical  power 
qiieiiched  his  imagination,  and  he  became  incapable  of 
understanding  the  purely  imaginative  element  either  in 
poetry  or  painting : he  therefore  somewhat  overrates  the 
pure  discipline  of  passionate  art  in  song  and  music,  and 
misses  that  of  meditative  art.  There  is,  however,  a deeper 
reason  for  his  distrust  of  Homer.  His  love  of  justice, 
and  reverently  religious  nature,  made  him  dread,  as 
death,  every  form  of  fallacy;  but  chiefly,  fallacy  re- 
specting the  world  to  come  (his  owni  myths  being  only 
symbolic  exponents  of  a rational  hope).  We  shall  perhaps 
now  every  day  discover  more  clearly  how  right  Plato  was 
in  this,  and  feel  ourselves  more  and  more  wonderstruck 
that  men  such  as  Homer  and  Dante  (and,  in  an  inferior 
sphere,  Milton),  not  to  speak  of  the  great  sculptors  and 
painters  of  every  age,  have  permitted  themselves,  though 
full  of  all  nobleness  and  wisdom,  to  coin  idle  imaginations 
of  the  mysteries  of  eternity,  and  guide  the  faiths  of  the 
families  of  the  earth  by  the  courses  of  their  own  vague 
and  visionary  arts : while  the  indisputable  truths  of 
human  life  and  duty,  respecting  which  they  all  have  but 
one  voice,  lie  hidden  behind  these  veils  of  phantasy, 
unsought,  and  often  unsuspected.  I will  gather  carefully, 
out  of  Dante  and  Homer,  what,  in  this  kind,  bears  on  our 
subject,  in  its  due  place ; the  flrst  broad  intention  of  their 
symbols  may  be  sketched  at  once. 

88.  The  rewards  of  a worthy  use  of  riches,  subordinate 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


to  other  ends,  are  shown  by  Dante  in  the  fifth  and  sixth 
orbs  of  Paradise  ; for  the  punishment  of  their  unworth}^ 
use,  three  places  are  assigned  ; one  for  the  avaricious  and 
prodigal  whose  souls  are  lost,  (Ilell^  canto  T) ; one  for  the 
avaricious  and  prodigal  whose  souls  are  capable  of  purifi- 
cation, {Purgatory^  canto  19) ; and  one  for  the  usurers,  of 
whom  none  can  be  redeemed  {Hell,  canto  17).  The  first 
group,  the  largest  in  all  hell  (“gente  pin  die  altrove 
troppa,”  compare  Yirgil’s  “ quae  maxima  turba”),  meet  in 
contrary  currents,  as  the  waves  of  Charyhdis,  casting 
weights  at  each  other  from  opposite  sides.  This  weari- 
ness of  contention  is  the  chief  element  of  their  torture ; 
so  marked  by  the  beautiful  lines  beginning  “ Or  puoi, 
figliuol,”  &c.  : (but  the  usurers,  who  made  their  money 
inactively,  sit  on  the  sand,  equally  without  rest,  however. 

Di  qua,  di  la,  soccorrien,  &c.)  For  it  i^gt_a^^i_ce,  but 
Gont^ri^n  for  riches,  leading  to  this  double  misuse  of 
them,  which,  in  Dante’s  light,  is  the  unredeemable  sin. 
The  place  of  its  punishment  is  guarded  by  Plutus,  “ the 
great  enemy,”  and  “ la  fiera  crudele,”  a spirit  quite  differ- 
ent from  the  Greek  Plutus,  who,  though  old  and  blind,  is 
not  cruel,  and  is  curable,  so  as  to  become  far-sighted. 
fv  rv(j)X6(;  o^v  ^XeTrcov, — Plato’s  epithets  in  first  book 
of  the  Laws.)  Still  more  does  this  Dantesque  type  differ 
from  the  resplendent  Plutus  of  Goethe  in  the  second  part 
of  Faust,  who  is  the  personified  power  of  wealth  for  good 
or  evil — not  the  passion  for  wealth ; and  again  from  the 
Plutus  of  Spenser,  who  is  the  passion  of  mere  aggrega- 


76 


MUNEEA  PULVERIS. 


tion.  Dante’s  Pliitiis  is  specially  and  definitely  the  Spirit 
of  Contention  and  Competition,  or  Evil  Commerce ; be- 
cause, as  I showed  before,  this  kind  of  commerce  “ makes 
all  men  strangers  ; ” his  speech  is  therefore  unintelligible, 
and  no  single  soul  of  all  those  ruined  by  him  has  recog- 
nizable  features. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  redeemable  sins  of  avarice  and 
prodigality  are,  in  Dante’s  sight,  those  which  are  without 
deliberate  or  calculated  operation.  The  lust,  or  lavish- 
ness, of  riches  can  be  purged,  so  long  as  there  has  been  no 
servile  consistency  of  dispute  and  competition  for  them. 
The  sin  is  spoken  of  as  that  of  degradation  by  the  love  of 
earth;  it  is  purified  by  deeper  humiliation— the  souls 
crawl  on  their  bellies  ; their  chant  is,  “ my  soul  cleaveth 
unto  the  dust.”  But  the  spirits  thus  condemned  are  all 
recognizable,  and  even  the  worst  examples  of  the  thirst 
for  gold,  which  they  are  compelled  to  tell  the  histories  of 
during  the  night,  are  of  men  swept  by  the  passion  of 
avarice  into  violent  crime,  but  not  sold  to  its  steady  work. 

89.  The  precept  given  to  each  of  these  spirits  for  its  de- 
liverance is — Turn  thine  eyes  to  the  lucre  (lure)  which  the 
Eternal  King  rolls  with  the  mighty  wheels.  Otherwise, 
the  wheels  of  the  “ G-reater  Fortune,”  of  which  the  con- 
stellation is  ascending  when  Dante’s  dream  begins.  Com- 
pare George  Herbert— 

‘‘  Lift  up  thy  head ; 

Take  stars  for  money  ; stars,  not  to  he  told 
By  any  art,  yet  to  be  purchased.” 


MUNERA  PULVERI8. 


77 


And  Plato’s  notable  sentence  in  the  third  book  of  the 
Polity  : — Tell  them  they  have  divine  gold  and  silver 
in  their  souls  for  ever  ; that  they  need  no  money  stamped 
of  men — neither  may  they  otherwise  than  impiously 
mingle  the  gathering:  of  the  divine  with  the  mortal 
treasure,  ybr  through  that  which  the  law  of  the  multitude 
has  coined^  endless  crimes  ham  heen  done  and  suffered  / 
l)ut  in  their'^s  is  neither  pollution  nor  sorrow?"' 

90.  At  the  entrance  of  this  place  of  punishment  an  evil 
spirit  is  seen  by  Dante,  quite  other  than  the  “ Gran  Nemi- 
CO.”  The  great  enemy  is  obeyed  knowingly  and  will 
ingly ; but  this  spirit — feminine — and  called  a Siren — is 
the  “ Deceitfulness  of  riches,”  airdriri  ttXovtov  of  the  Gos- 
pels, winning  obedience  by  guile.  This  is  the  Idol  of 
riches,  made  doubly  phantasmal  by  Dante’s  seeing  her  in  a 
dream.  She  is  lovely  to  look  upon,  and  enchants  by  her 
sweet  singing,  but  her  womb  is  loathsome.  Now,  Dante 
does  not  call  her  one  of  the  Sirens  carelessly,  any  more 
than  he  speaks  of  Charybdis  carelessly;  and  though  he 
had  got  at  the  meaning  of  the  Homeric  fable  only 
through  Virgil’s  obscure  tradition  of  it,  the  clue  he  has 
given  us  is  quite  enough.  Bacon’s  interpretation,  “ the 
Sirens,  or  pleasures^'  which  has  become  universal  since 
his  time,  is  opposed  alike  to  Plato’s  meaning  and  Homer’s. 
The  Sirens  are  not  pleasures,  but  Desires  : in  the  Odyssey 
they  are  the  phantoms  of  vain  desire  ; but  in  Plato’s  Vis- 
ion of  '^stiny,  phantoms  of  divine  desire  ; singing  each  a 
different  note  on  the  circles  of  the  distaff  of  Necessity, 


78 


MUNERA  PTJLVERIS. 


but  forming  one  harmony,  to  which  the  three  great  Fates 
put  words.  Dante,  however,  adopted  the  Homeric  con- 
ception of  them,  wliich  was  that  they  were  demons  of  the 
Imagination,  not  carnal ; (desire  of  the  eyes ; not  lust  of 
the  flesh) ; therefore  said  to  be  daughters  of  the  Muses. 
Yet  not  of  the  Muses,  heavenly  or  historical,  but  of  the 
Muse  of  pleasure ; and  they  are  at  first  winged,  because 
even  vain  hope  excites  and  helps  when  flrst  formed ; but 
afterwards,  contending  for  the  possession  of  the  imagina- 
tion with  the  Muses  themselves,  they  are  deprived  of  their 
wings. 

91.  And  thus  we  are  to  distinguish  the  Siren  power 
from  the  power  of  Circe,  who  is  no  daughter  of  the 
Muses,  but  of  the  strong  elements.  Sun  and  Sea ; her 
power  is  that  of  frank,  and  full  vital  pleasure,  which,  if 
governed  and  watched,  nourishes  men;  but,  unwatched, 
and  having  no  “ moly,”  bitterness  or  delay,  mixed  with  it, 
turns  men  into  beasts,  but  does  not  slay  them,- — leaves 
them,  on  the  contrary,  power  of  revival.  She  is  herself 
indeed  an  Enchantress  ; — pure  Animal  life  ; transforming 
— or  degrading — but  always  wonderful  (she  puts  the 
stores  on  board  the  ship  invisibly,  and  is  gone  again,  like 
a ghost);  even  the  wild  beasts  rejoice  and  are  softened 
around  her  cave;  the  transforming  poisons  she  gives  to 
men  are  mixed  with  no  rich  feast,  but  with  pure  and  right 
nourishment, — Pramnian  wine,  cheese,  and  flour ; that  is, 
wine,  milk,  and  corn,  the  three  great  sustain ers  of  life — it 
is  their  own  fault  if  these  make  swine  of  them ; (see  Ap- 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


70 


pendix  Y.)  and  swine  are  chosen  merely  as  the  type  of 
consumption ; as  Plato’s  vmv  TroXt?,  in  the  second  book  of 
the  Polity^  and  perhaps  chosen  by  Homer  with  a deeper 
knowledge  of  the  likeness  in  variety  of  nourishment,  and 
internal  form  of  body. 

“Et  quel  est,  s’il  vous  plait,  cet  audacieux  animal  qui  se 
permet  d’etre  bad  au  dedans  comme  une  jolie  petite 
fille  % 

“ Helas ! ch^re  enfant,  j’ai  honte  de  le  nommer,  et  il  ne 
faudra  pas  m’en  vouloir.  C’est  . . . c’est  le  cochon.  Ce 
n’est  pas  prdcisement  flatteur  pour  vous ; mais  nous  en 
sornmes  tous  la,  et  si  cela  vous  contrarie  par  trop,  il  faut 
aller  vous  plaindre  au  bon  Dieu  qui  a voulu  que  les 
choses  fussent  arrangees  ainsi : seulement  le  cochon,  qui 
ne  pense  qu’a  manger,  a I’estomac  bien  plus  vaste  que 
nous  et  c’est  toujours  une  consolation.” — {Histoire  Pune 
Bouchee  de  Pain^  Lettre  ix.)  . 

92.  But  the  deadly  Sirens  are  in  all  things  opposed  to 
the  Circean  power.  They  promise  pleasure,  but  never 
give  it.  They  nourish  in  no  wise ; but  slay  by  slow  death. 
And  whereas  they  corrupt  the  heart  and  the  head,  instead 
of  merely  betraying  the  senses,  there  is  no  recovery  from 
their  power ; the}^  do  not  tear  nor  scratch,  like  Scylla,  but 
the  men  who  have  listened  to  them  are  poisoned,  and 
waste  away.  Hote  that  the  Sirens’  field  is  covered,  not 
merely  with  the  bones,  but  with  the  skins,  of  those  who 
have  been  consumed  there.  They  address  themselves,  in 
the  part  of  the  song  which  Homer  gives,  not  to  the 


80 


MUNEKA  PULVEEIS. 


passions  of  Ulysses,  but  to  his  vanity,  and  the  only  man 
T^ho  ever  came  within  hearing  of  them,  and  escaped 
nntempted,  was  Orpheus,  who  silenced  the  vain  imagi- 
nations by  singing  the  praises  of  the  gods. 

93.  It  is,  then,  one  of  these  Sirens  whom  Dante  takes 
as  the  phantasm  or  deceitfulness  of  riches;  but  note 
further,  that  she  says  it  was  her  song  that  deceived 
Ulysses.  Look  back  to  Dante’s  account  of  Ulysses’  death, 
and  we  find  it  was  not  the  love  of  money,  but  pride  of 
knowledge,  that  betrayed  him ; whence  we  get  the  clue  to 
Dante’s  complete  meaning : that  the  souls  whose  love  of 
wealth  is  pardonable  have  been  first  deceived  into  pursuit 
of  it  by  a dream  of  its  higher  uses,  or  by  ambition.  His 
Siren  is  therefore  the  Philotime  of  Spenser,  daughter  of 
Mammon — 

“ Whom  all  that  folk  with  such  contention 
Do  flock  about,  my  deare,  my  daughter  is — 

Honour  and  dignitie  from  her  alone 
Derived  are.” 

By  comparing  Spenser’s  entire  account  of  this  Philo- 
time with  Dante’s  of  the  Wealth-Siren,  we  shall  get  at  the 
full  meaning  of  both  poets ; but  that  of  Homer  lies 
hidden  much  more  deeply.  For  his  Sirens  are  indefinite ; 
and  they  are  desires  of  any  evil  thing ; power  of  wealth 
is  not  specially  indicated  by  him,  until,  escaping  the  har- 
monious danger  of  imagination,  Ulysses  has  to  choose 
between  two  practical  ways  of  life,  indicated  by  the  two 
rocks  of  Scylla  and  Charybdis.  The  monsters  that  haunt 


MUNEKA  PULVEEIS. 


81 


them  are  quite  distinct  from  the  rocks  themselves,  which, 
having  many  other  subordinate  significations,  are  in  the 
main  Labour  and  Idleness,  or  getting  and  spending ; each 
with  its  attendant  monster,  or  betraying  demon.  The 
rock  of  gaining  has  its  summit  in  the  clouds,  invisible, 
and  not  to  be  climbed ; that  of  spending  is  low,  but 
marked  by  the  cursed  fig-tree,  which  has  leaves’  but  no 
fruit.  We  know  the  type  elsewhere;  and  there  is  a 
curious  lateral  allusion  to  it  by  Dante  w^hen  Jacopo  di 
8ant’  Andrea,  who  had  ruined  himself  by  profusion  and 
committed  suicide,  scatters  the  leaves  of  the  bush  of  Lotto 
degli  Agli,  endeavouring  to  hide  himself  among  them. 
We  shall  hereafter  examine  the  type  completely ; here  I 
will  only  give  an  approximate  rendering  of  Homer’s 
Tvords,  which  have  been  obscured  more  by  translation 
than  even  by  tradition. 

94.  “ They  are  overhanging  rocks.  The  great  waves  of 
blue  water  break  round  them  ; and  the  blessed  Gods  call 
them  the  Wanderers. 

“ By  one  of  them  no  winged  thing  can  pass — not  even 
the  wild  doves  that  bring  ambrosia  to  their  father  Jove — - 
but  the  smooth  rock  seizes  its  sacrifice  of  them.”  (Hot 
even  ambrosia  to  be  had  without  Labour.  The  word  is 
peculiar — as  a part  of  anything  is  offered  for  sacrifice ; 
especially  used  of  heave-offering.)  “ It  reaches  the  wude 
heaven  with  its  top,  and  a dark  blue  cloud  rests  on  it,  and 
never  passes ; neither  does  the  clear  sky  hold  it,  in  sum- 
mer nor  in  harvest.  Hor  can  any  man  climb  it — not  if 

4* 


82 


MUNEEA  PTTLVEEIS. 


he  had  twenty  feet  and  hands,  for  it  is  smooth  as  though 
it  were  hewn. 

“ And  in  the  midst  of  it  is  a cave  which  is  turned  the 
way  of  hell.  And  therein  dwells  Scylla,  whining  for  prey : 
her  cry,  indeed,  is  no  louder  than  that  of  a newly-born 
whelp : but  she  herself  is  an  awful  thing— nor  can  any 
creature  see  her  face  and  be  glad;  no,  though  it  were  a 
god  that  rose  against  her.  For  she  has  twelve  feet,  all 
fore-feet,  and  six  necks,  and  terrible  heads  on  them ; and 
each  has  three  rows  of  teeth,  full  of  black  death. 

But  the  opposite  rock  is  lower  than  this,  though  but 
a bow-shot  distant ; and  upon  it  there  is  a great  fig-tree, 
full  of  leaves ; and  under  it  the  terrible  Charybdis  sucks 
down  the  black  water.  Thrice  in  the  day  she  sucks  it 
down,  and  thrice  casts  it  up  again  ; be  not  thou  there 
when  she  sucks  down,  for  IN^eptune  himself  could  not  save 
thee.” 

[Thus  far  went  my  rambling  note,  in  Fraser^ s Maga- 
zine. The  Editor  sent  me  a compliment  on  it— of  which 
I was  very  proud ; what  the  Publisher  thought  of  it,  I mn 
not  informed ; only  I know  that  eventually  he  stopped  the 
papers.  I think  a great  deal  of  it  myself,  now,  and  have 
put  it  all  in  large  print  accordingly,  and  should  like  to 
write  more ; but  will,  on  the  contrary,  self-denyingly,  and 
in  gratitude  to  any  reader  who  has  got  through  so  much, 
end  my  chapter.] 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


83 


CHAPTER  lY. 

COMMERCE. 

95.  As  the  currency  conveys  right  of  choice  out  of 
many  things  in  exchange  for  one,  so  Commerce  is  the 
agency  by  which  the  power  of  choice  is  obtained ; so  that 
countries  producing  only  timber  can  obtain  for  their  tim- 
ber silk  and  gold;  or, naturally  producing  only  jewels  and 
frankincense,  can  obtain  for  them  cattle  and  corn.  In  this 
function,  commerce  is  of  more  importance  to  a country  in 
proportion  to  the  limitations  of  its  products,  and  the  rest- 
lessness of  its  fancy; — generally  of  greater  importance 
towards  Northern  latitudes.  ' 

96.  Commerce  is  necessary,  however,  not  only  to  ex- 
change local  products,  but  local  skill.  Labour  requiring 
the  agency  of  fire  can  only  be  given  abundantly  in  cold 
countries;  labour  requiring  suppleness  of  body  and  sen- 
sitiveness of  touch,  only  in  warm  ones;  labour  involving 
accurate  vivacity  of  thought  only  in  temperate  ones ; while 
peculiar  imaginative  actions  are  produced  by  extremes  of 
heat  and  cold,  and  of  light  and  darkness.  The  production 
of  great  art  is  limited  to  climates  warm  enough  to  admit 
of  repose  in  the  open  air,  and  cool  enough  to  render  such 
repose  delightful.  Minor  variations  in  modes  of  skill 


84: 


MUNEBA  PELVEEIS. 


distinguish  every  locality.  The  labour  which  at  any  place 
is  easiest,  is  in  that  place  cheapest;  and  it  becomes  often 
desirable  that  products  raised  in  one  country  should  be 
wrought  in  another.  Hence  have  arisen  discussions  on 
“ International  values”  w^hich  will  be  one  day  remembered 
as  highly  curious  exercises  of  the  human  mind.  For  it 
will  be  discovered,  in  due  course  of  tide  and  time,  that 
international  value  is  regulated  just  as  inter-provincial  or 
inter-parishional  value  is.  Coals  and  hops  are  exchanged 
between  Northumberland  and  Kent  on  absolutely  the 
same  principles  as  iron  and  wine  between  Lancashire  and 
Spain.  The  greater  breadth  of  an  arm  of  the  sea  increases 
the  cost,  but  does  not  modify  the  principle  of  exchange ; 
and  a bargain  written  in  two  languages  will  have  no  other 
economical  results  than  a bargain  written  in  one.  The 
distances  of  nations  are  measured,  not  by  seas,  but  by 
ignorances;  and  their  divisions  determined,  not  by  dia- 
lects, but  by  enmities.^ 

97.  Of  course,  a system  of  international  values  may 
always  be  constructed  if  we  assume  a relation  of  moral 
law  to  physical  geography ; as,  for  instance,  that  it  is 
right  to  cheat  or  rob  across  a river,  though  not  across  a 

[*  I have  repeated  the  substance  of  this  and  the  next  paragraph  so 
often  since,  that  I am  ashamed  and  weary.  The  thing  is  too  true,  and 
too  simple,  it  seems,  for  anybody  ever  to  believe.  Meantime,  the 
theories  of  “international  values,”  as  explained  by  Modern  Political 
Economy,  have  brought  about  last  year’s  pillage  of  Prance  by  G-ermany, 
and  the  affectionate  relations  now  existing  in  consequence  between  the 
inhabitants  of  the  right  and  left  banks  of  the  Rhine.] 


MUNEKA  PULVERI8. 


85 


road ; or  across  a sea,  though  not  across  a river,  &c. ; — 
again,  a s^’stem  of  such  values  may  be  constructed  by  as- 
suming similar  relations  of  taxation  to  physical  geography ; 
as,  for  instance,  that  an  article  should  be  taxed  in  crossing 
a river,  but  not  in  crossing  a road;  or  in  being  carried 
fifty  miles,  but  not  in  being  carried  five,  &c. ; such  posi- 
tions are  indeed  not  easily  maintained  when  once  put  in 
logical  form ; but  one  law  of  international  value  is  maim- 
tai liable  in  any  form:  namely,  that  the  farther  your 
neighbour  lives  from  you,  and  the  less  he  understands  you,. 
the  more  you  are  hound  to  he  true  in  your  dealings  with 
him;  because  your  power  over  him  is  greater  in  propor- 
tion to  his  ignorance,  and  his  remedy  more  difficult  in 
proportion  to  his  distance.* 

98.  I have  just  said  the  breadth  of  sea  increases  the 
cost  of  exchange.  Kow  note  that  exchange,  or  commerce, 
in  itself^  is  always  costly ; the  sum  of  the  value  of  the 
goods  being  diminished  by  the  cost  of  their  conveyance, 
and  by  the  maintenance  of  the  persons  employed  in  it ; so 
that  it  is  only  when  there  is  advantage  to  both  producers 
(in  getting  the  one  thing  for  the  other)  greater  than  the 
loss  in  conveyance,  that  the  exchange  is  expedient.  And 
it  can  only  be  justly  conducted  when  the  porters  kept  by 
the  producers  (commonly  called  merchants)  expect  mere 
pay,  and  not  profit. f For  in  just  commerce  there  are  but 

[*  I wish  some  one  would  examine  and  publish  accurately  the  late? 
dealings  of  the  Governors  of  the  Cape  with  the  Caffirs.  ] 

[f  By  “ pay,”  I mean  wages  for  labour  or  skill;  by  “ profit,”  gaia 
dependent  on  the  state  of  the  market.  ] 


86 


MIJNERA  PULVERIS. 


three  parties — the  two  persons  or  societies  exchanging, 
and  the  agent  or  agents  of  exchange;  the  value  of  the 
things  to  be  exchanged  is  known  by  both  the  exchangers, 
and  each  receives  equal  value,  neither  gaining  nor  losing 
(for  whatever  one  gains  the  other  loses).  The  intermedi- 
ate agent  is  paid  a known  per-centage  by  both,  partly  for 
labour  in  conveyance,  partly  for  care,  knowledge,  and  risk; 
every  attempt  at  concealment  of  the  amount  of  the  pay 
indicates  either  effort  on  the  part  of  the  agent  to  obtain 
unjust  profit,  or  effort  on  the  part  of  the  exchangers  to  re- 
fuse him  just  pay.  But  for  the  most  part  it  is  the  first, 
/namely,  the  effort  on  the  part  of  the  merchant  to  obtain 
I larger  profit  (so-called)  by  buying  cheap  and  selling  dear, 
i Some  part,  indeed,  of  this  larger  gain  is  deserved,  and 
might  be  openly  demanded,  because  it  is  the  reward  of 
' the  merchant’s  knowledge,  and  foresight  of  probable  ne- 
^ cessity  ; but  the  greater  part  of  such  gain  is  unjust;  and 
' unjust  in  this  most  fatal  way,  that  it  depends,  first,  on 
keeping  the  exchangers  ignorant  of  the  exchange  value  of 
the  articles ; and,  secondly,  on  taking  advantage  of  the 
buyer’s  need  and  the  seller’s  poverty.  It  is,  therefore,  one 
of  the  essential,  and  quite  the  most  fatal,  forms  of  usury ; 
for  usury  means  merely  taking  an  exorbitant  * sum  for 

[*  Since  I wrote  this,  I have  worked  out  the  question  of  interest  of 
money,  which  always,  until  lately,  had  embarrassed  and  defeated  me ; 
and  I find  that  the  payment  of  interest  of  any  amount  whatever  is  real 
“ usury,”  and  entirely  unjustifiable.  I was  shown  this  chiefly  by  the 
pamphlets  issued  by  Mr.  W.  C.  Sillar,  though  I greatly  regret  the  impa- 


MUNERA  rULVERIS. 


87 


the  use  of  anything ; and  it  is  no  matter  whether  the  ex- 
orbitance is  on  loan  or  exchange,  on  rent  or  on  price — the 
essence  of  the  usury  being  that  it  is  obtained  by  advantage 
of  opportunity  or  necessity,  and  not  as  due  reward  for  la- 
bour. All  the  great  thinkers,  therefore,  have  held  it  to  be 
unnatural  and  impious,  in  so  far  as  it  feeds  on  the  distress 
of  others,  or  their  folly.*  Nevertheless,  attempts  to  re- 
press it  by  law  must  for  ever  be  ineffective ; though  Plato, 
Bacon,  and  the  First  Napoleon — all  three  of  them  men 
who  knew  somewhat  more  of  humanity  than  the  “ British 
merchant  ” usually  does — tried  their  hands  at  it,  and  have 
left  some  (probably)  good  moderative  forms  of  law,  which 
we  will  examine  in  their  place.  But  the  only  final  check 
upo^itmuslLbe  radical  purifying  of  the  national  charac- 
ter,  ior  being,  as  Bacon  calls  it,  “ concessum  propter  duri- 
tiem  cordis,”  it  is  to  be  done  away  with,  by_tquching  ^e 
hear^_only ; not,  however,  wnthout  medicinal  law — as  in 
the  case  of  the  other  permission,  “propter  duritiem.”  But 
in  this  more  than  in  anything  (though  much  in  all, 
and  though  in  this  he  would  not  himself  allow  of  their  ap- 
plication, for  his  own  laws  against  usury  are  sharp  enough), 
Plato’s  w^ords  in  the  fourth  book  of  the  Polity  are  true, 
that  neither  drugs,  nor  charms,  nor  burnings,  will  touch  a 
deep-lying  political  sore,  any  more  than  a deep  bodily  one ; 

tlence  which  causes  Mr.  Sillar  to  regard  usury  as  the  radical  crime  in 
political  economy.  There  are  others  worse,  that  act  with  it.] 

* Hence  Dante’s  companionship  of  Cahors,  Inf.^  canto  xi.,  supported 
by  the  view  taken  of  the  matter  throughout  the  middle  ages,  in  common 
with  the  Greeks. 


88 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


but  only  right  and  utter  change  of  constitution : and  that 
“they  do  but  lose  their  labour  who  think  that  by  any 
tricks  of  law  they  can  get  the  better  of  these  mischiefs  of 
commerce,  and  see  not  that  they  hew  at  a Hydra.” 

99.  And  indeed  this  Hydra  seems  so  nnslayable,  and 
Bin  sticks  so  fast  between  the  joinings  of  the  stones  of 
buying  and  selling,  that  “ to  trade  ” in  things,  or  literally 
“ cross-give  ” them,  has  warped  itself,  by  the  instinct  of  na- 
tions, into  their  worst  word  for  fraud ; for,  because  in 
trade  there  cannot  but  be  trust,  and  it  seems  also  that  there 
cannot  but  also  be  injury  in  answer  to  it,  what  ds  merely 
fraud  between  enemies  becomes  treachery  among  friends : 
and  “trader,”  “ traditor,”  and  “traitor”  are  but  the  same 
word.  For  which  simplicity  of  language  there  is  more 
reason  than  at  first  appears:  for  as  in  true  commerce 
tkere  is  no  “ profit,”  so  in  true  commerce  there  is  no  “ sale.” 
The  idea  of  sale  is  that  of  an  interchange  between  enemies 
respectively  endeavouring  to  get  the  better  one  of  another; 
but  commerce  is  an  exchange  between  friends  ; and  there 
is  no  desire  but  that  it  should  be  just,  any  more  than  there 


be  between  members  of  the  same  family.*  The 
moment  there  is  a bargain  over  the  pottage,  the  family  re- 
lation is  dissolved  : — typically,  “ the  days  of  mourning  for 

[*  I do  uot  wonder  when  I re-read  this,  that  people  talk  about  my 
“sentiment.”  But  there  is  no  sentiment  whatever  in  the  matter.  It 
is  a hard  and  bare  commercial  fact,  that  if  two  people  deal  together 
who  don’t  try  to  cheat  each  other,  they  will  in  a given  time,  make  more 
money  out  of  each  other  than  if  they  do.  See  § 104.] 


MUNEKA  PULVEKIS. 


89 


my  father  are  at  hand.”  Whereupon  follows  the  resolve, 
“ tlien  will  I slay  my  brother.” 

100.  This  inlinmanity  of  mercenary  commerce  is  the 
more  notable  because  it  is  a fnlfilment  of  the  law  that  the 
corruption  of  the  best  is  the  worst.  For  as,  taking  the 
body  natural  for  symbol  of  the  body  politic,  the  governing 
and  forming  powers  may  be  likened  to  the  brain,  and  the 
labouring  to  the  limbs,  the  mercantile,  presiding  over  cir- 
culation and  communication  of  things  in  changed  utilities, 
is  symbolized  by  the  heart ; and,  if  that  hardens,  all  is 
lost.  And  this  is  the  ultimate  lesson  which  the  leader  of 
English  intellect  meant  for  us,  (a  lesson,  indeed,  not  all 
liis  own,  but  part  of  the  old  wisdom  of  humanity),  in  the 
tale  of  the  Merchant  of  Venice  / in  which  the  true  and 
incorrupt  merchant, — kind  and  free,  beyond  every  other 
Shaksjoearian  conception  of  men, — is  opposed  to  the  cor- 
rupted merchant,  or  usurer ; the  lesson  being  deepened  by 
the  expression  of  the  strange  hatred  which  the  corrupted 
mercliant  beai-s  to  the  pure  one,  mixed  with  intense 
scorn, — 

“ This  is  the  fool  that  lent  out  money  gratis ; look  to 
liim,  jailer,”  (as  to  lunatic  no  less  than  criminal)  the 
enmity,  observe,  having  its  symbolism  literally  carried  out 
by  being  aimed  straight  at  the  heart,  and  finally  foiled  by 
a literal  appeal  to  the  great  moral  law  that  fiesh  and  blood 
cannot  be  weighed,  enforced  by  “ Portia  ” (“  Portion”), 

* Shakspeare  would  certainly  never  have  chosen  this  name  had  he 
been  forced  to  retain  the  Roman  spelling.  Like  Perdita,  “ lost  lady,” 


90 


MUNEKA  PULVEEIS. 


the  type  of  divine  Fortune,  found,  not  in  gold,  nor  in 
silver,  but  in  lead,  that  is  to  say,  in  endurance  and 
patience,  not  in  splendour ; and  finally  taught  by  her  lips 
also,  declaring,  instead  of  the  law  and  quality  of  “merces,” 
the  greater  law  and  quality  of  mercy,  which  is  not  strained, 
but  drops  as  the  rain,  blessing  him  that  gives  and  him  that 
takes.  And  observe  that  this  “ mercy  ” is  not  the  mean 
“ Misericordia,”  but  the  mighty  “ Gratia,”  answered  by 
Gratitude,  (observe  Shylock’s  learning  on  the,  to  him 
detestable,  w'ord,  gratis^  and  compare  the  relations  of 
Grace  to  Equity  given  in  the  second  chapter  of  the  second 
book  of  the  Memorahilia  /)  that  is  to  say,  it  is  the  gi-a- 
cious  or  loving,  instead  of  the  strained,  or  competing 
manner,  of  doing  things,  answered,  not  only  with  “ merces” 
or  pay,  but  with  “ merci  ” or  thanks.  And  this  is  indeed 

or  Cordelia,  “ heart-lady,”  Portia  is  “fortune”  lady.  The  two  great 
relative  groups  of  words,  Fortuna,  fero,  and  fors — Portio,  porto,  and 
pars  (with  the  lateral  branch,  op-portune,  im-portune,  opportunity,  &c.), 
are  of  deep  and  intricate  significance  ; their  various  senses  of  bringing, 
abstracting,  and  sustaining  being  all  centralized  by  the  wheel  (which 
bears  and  moves  at  once),  or  still  better,  the  ball  (spera)  of  Fortune, — 
“ Volve  sua  spera,  e beata  si  gode  : ” the  motive  power  of  this  wheel 
distinguishing  its  goddess  from  the  fixed  majesty  of  Necessitas  with  her 
iron  nails  ; or  aydyKT},  with  her  pillar  of  fire  and  iridescent  orbits,  Jicced 
at  the  centre.  Portus  and  porta,  and  gate  in  its  connexion  with  gain, 
form  another  interesting  branch  group  ; and  Mors,  the  concentration  ol 
delaying,  is  always  to  be  remembered  with  Fors,  the  concentration  of 
bringing  and  bearing,  passing  on  into  Fortis  and  Fortitude. 

[This  note  is  literally  a mere  memorandum  for  the  future  work  which 
I am  now  completing  in  Fors  Clavigera  ; it  was  printed  partly  in  vanity , 
but  also  with  real  desire  to  get  people  to  share  the  interest  I found  in 
the  careful  study  of  the  leading  words  in  noble  languages.  Compare 
the  next  note.  ] 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


91 


the  meaning  of  the  great  benediction  “ Grace,  mercy,  and 
peace,”  for  there  can  be  no  peace  without  grace,  (not  even 
by  help  of  rifled  cannon),  nor  even  without  triplicity  of 
graciousness,  for  the  Greeks,  who  began  but  with  one 
Grace,  had  to  open  their  scheme  into  three  before  they 
had  done. 

101.  With  the  usual  tendency  of  long  repeated  thought, 
to  take  the  surface  for  the  deep,  we  have  conceived  these 
goddesses  as  if  they  only  gave  loveliness  to  gesture ; 
whereas  their  true  function  is  to  give  graciousness  to  deed, 
the  Other  loveliness  arising  naturally  out  of  that.  In 
which  function  Charis  becomes  Charitas ; * and  has  a 

* As  Charis  becomes  Charitas,  the  word  “ Cher,”  or  “Dear,”  passes 
from  Shylock’s  sense  of  it  (to  buy  cheap  and  sell  dear)  into  Antonio’s 
sense  of  it ; emphasized  with  the  final  i in  tender  “ Cheri,”  and  hushed 
to  English  calmness  in  our  noble  “ Cherish.”  The  reader  must  not  think 
that  any  care  can  be  misspent  in  tracing  the  connexion  and  power  of  the 
words  which  we  have  to  use  in  the  sequel.  (See  Appendix  VI.)  Much 
education  sums  itself  in  making  men  economize  their  words,  and  under- 
stand them.  Nor  is  it  possible  to  estimate  the  harm  which  has  been  done, 
in  matters  of  higher  speculation  and  conduct,  by  loose  verbiage,  though 
we  may  guess  at  it  by  observing  the  dislike  which  people  show  to  having 
anything  about  their  religion  said  to  them  in  simple  words,  because 
then  they  understand  it.  Thus  congregations  meet  weekly  to  invoke  the 
influence  of  a Spirit  of  Life  and  Truth  ; yet  if  any  part  of  that  character  ’ 
were  intelligibly  expressed  to  them  by  the  formulas  of  the  service,  they 
Vould  be  offended.  Suppose,  for  instance,  in  the  closing  benediction, 
the  clergyman  were  to  give  vital  significance  to  the  vague  word  “Holy,” 
and  were  to  say,  ‘ ‘ the  fellowship  of  the  Helpful  and  Honest  Ghost  be 
with  you,  and  remain  with  you  always,”  what  would  be  the  horror  of 
many,  first  at  the  irreverence  of  so  intelligible  an  expression ; and 
secondly,  at  the  discomfortable  occurrence  of  the  suspicion  that  while 
throughout  the  commercial  dealings  of  the  week  they  had  denied  the 
propriety  of  Help,  and  possibility  of  Honesty,  the  Person  whose  com- 


92 


MUNEEA  PULVEKIS. 


name  and  praise  even  greater  than  that  of  Faith  or  Truth, 
for  these  may  be  maintained  sullenly  and  proudly;  but 
Oharis  is  in  her  countenance  always  gladdening  (Aglaia), 
and  in  her  service  instant  and  humble  ; and  the  true  wife 
of  Yulcan,  or  Labour.  And  it  is  not  until  her  sincerity 
of  function  is  lost,  and  her  mere  beauty  contemplated 
instead  of  her  patience,  that  she  is  born  again  of  the  foam 
hake,  and  becomes  Aphrodite ; and  it  is  then  only  that  she 
becomes  capable  of  joining  herself  to  war  and  to  the 
enmities  of  men,  instead  of  to  labour  and  their  services. 
Therefore  the  fable  of  Mars  and  Yenus  is  chosen  by 
Homer,  picturing  himself  as  Demodocus,  to  sing  at  the 
games  in  the  court  of  Alcinous.  Phseacia  is  the  Homeric 
island  of  Atlantis;  an  image  of  noble  and  wise  govern- 
ment, concealed,  (how  slightly !)  merely  by  the  change  of 
a short  vowel  for  a long  one  in  the  name  of  its  queen ; 
yet  misunderstood  by  all  later  writers,  (even  by  Horace, 
in  his  “ pinguis,  Phseaxque  ”).  That  fable  expresses  the 
l^erpetual  error  of  men  in  thinking  that  grace  and  dignity 
can  only  be  reached  by  the  soldier,  and  never  by  the 
artisan;  so  that  commerce  and  the  useful  arts  have  had 
the  honour  and  beauty  taken  away,  and  only  the  Fraud 
and  Pain  left  to  them,  with  the  lucre.  Which  is,  indeed, 
one  great  reason  of  the  continual  blundering  about  the 
offices  of  government  with  lespect  to  commerce.  The 
higher  classes  are  ashamed  to  employ  themselves  in  it ; 

pany  they  had  been  now  asking  to  be  blessed  with  could  have  no  fellow- 
ship with  crael  people  or  knaves. 


MUNEKA  PULVERIS. 


93 


and  though  ready  enough  to  fight  for  (or  occasionally 
against)  the  people, — to  preach  to  them,— or  judge  them, 
will  not  break  bread  for  them ; the  refined  upper  servant 
who  has  willingly  looked  after  the  burnishing  of  the 
armoury  and  ordering  of  the  library,  not  liking  to  set  foot 
in  the  larder. 

102.  Farther  still.  As  Charis  becomes  Charitas  on  the 
one  side,  she  becomes — better  still — Chara,  Joy,  on  the 
other ; or  rather  this  is  her  very  mother’s  milk  and  the 
beauty  of  her  childhood ; for  God  brings  no  enduring 
Love,  nor  any  other  good,  out  of  pain ; nor  out  of  conten- 
tion ; but  out  of  joy  and  harmony.  And  in  this  sense, 
human  and  divine,  music  and  gladness,  and  the  measures 
of  both,  come  into  her  name  ; and  Cher  becomes  full- 
vowelled  Cheer,  and  Cheerful ; and  Chara  opens  into 
Choir  and  Choral.* 

103.  And  lastly.  As  Grace  passes  into  Freedom  of 
action,  Charis  becomes  Eleutheria,  or  Liberality ; a form 
of  liberty  quite  curiously  and  intensely  different  from  the 

* “ TO  /x(v  ovv  &\\a  oifK  exeij'  aX<r6r](riu  ruv  iv  ra7s  Kiv-fiaeai 
ovSe  ara^icij/,  ols  dr]  pvOfihs  ovop.a  Kal  apfioyia'  rj/mlv  de  ous  rovs 

6€ous  (Apollo,  the  Muses,  and  Bacchus — the  grave  Bacchus,  that  is — rul- 
ing the  choir  of  age ; or  Bacchus  restraining ; ‘ saeva  tene,  cum  Berecyntio 
cornu,  tympana,^ &c. ) (rvyxop^^ras  d edo  <r  6 ai , rovrovs  eipai  Kal  rovs 
ded^Koras  r^u  evpv9p.6p  T€  Kal  ivap/xopiop  ain6r](Hv  joe'J’  rjdovrjs  . . . 
wuofiaK€pai  TTapa  rrjs  e/x^vrov  oj/o^o.”  “ Other  animals  have  no  per- 

ception of  order  nor  of  disorder  in  motion  ; but  for  us,  Apollo  and  Bac- 
chus and  the  Muses  are  appointed  to  mingle  in  our  dances  ; and  these 
are  they  who  have  given  us  the  sense  of  delight  in  rhythm  and  har- 
mony. And  the  name  of  choir,  choral  dance,  (we  may  believe,)  came 
from  chara  (delight).” — Laws,  book  ii. 


94 


MUNEEA  PULVEEIS. 


thing  usually  understood  by  “ Liberty  ” in  modern  lan- 
guage : indeed,  much  more  like  what  some  people  would 
call  slavery : for  a Greek  always  undei'stood,  primarily, 
by  liberty,  deliverance  from  the  law  of  his  own  passions 
(or  from  what  the  Christian  wndters  call  bondage  of  cor- 
ruption), and  this  a complete  liberty : not  being  merely 
safe  from  the  Siren,  but  also  unbound  from  the  mast,  and 
not  liaving  to  resist  the  passion,  but  making  it  fawn  upon, 
and  follow  him — (this  may  be  again  partly  the  meaning 
of  the  fawning  beasts  about  the  Circean  cave ; so,  again, 
George  Herbert — 

Correct  thy  passion’s  spite, 

Then  may  the  beasts  draw  thee  to  happy  light) — 

And  it  is  only  in  such  generosity  that  any  man  becomes 
capable  of  so  governing  others  as  to  take  true  part  in  any 
system  of  national  economy.  Hor  is  there  any  other  eter- 
nal distinction  between  tlie  upper  and  low^er  classes  than 
this  form  of  liberty,  Eleutheria,  or  benignity,  in  the  one, 
and  its  opposite  of  slavery,  Douleia,  or  malignity,  in  the 
other  ; the  separation  of  these  two  orders  of  men,  and  the 
firm  government  of  the  lower  by  the  higher,  ,being  the 
first  conditions  of  possible  wealth  and  economy  in  any 
state, — the  Gods  giving  it  no  greater  gift  than  the  power 
to  discern  its  true  freemen,  and  “ malignum  spernere 
Yulgus.” 

104.  While  I have  traced  the  finer  and  higher  laws  of 
this  matter  for  those  , whom  they  concern,  I have  also  to 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


95 


note  the  material  law — vulgarly  expressed  in  the  proverb, 
“ Honesty  is  the  best  policy.”  That  proverb  is  indeed 
wholly  inapplicable  to  matters  of  private  interest.  It  is 
not  true  that  honesty,  as  far  as  material  gain  is  concerned, 
profits  individuals.  A clever  and  cruel  knave  will  in  a 
mixed  society  always  be  richer  than  an  honest  person  can 
be.  But  Honesty  is  the  best  “ policy,”  if  policy  mean 
practice  of  State.  For  fraud  gains  nothing  in  a State.  It 
only  enables  the  knaves  in  it  to  live  at  the  expense  of 
honest  people  ; while  there  is  for  every  act  of  fraud,  how- 
ever small,  a loss  of  wealth  to  the  community.  Whatever 
the  fraudulent  person  gains,  some  other  person  loses,  as 
fraud  produces  nothing ; and  there  is,  besides,  the  loss  of 
the  time  and  thought  spent  in  accomplishing  the  fraud, 
and  of  the  strength  otherwise  obtainable  by  mutual  help 
(not  to  speak  of  the  fevers  of  anxiety  and  jealousy  in  the 
blood,  which  are  a heavy  physical  loss,  as  I will  show  in 
due  time).  Practically,  when  the  nation  is  deeply  cor- 
rupt, cheat  answers  to  cheat ; every  one  is  in  turn  imposed 
upon,  and  there  is  to  the  body  politic  the  dead  loss  of  the 
ingenuity,  together  with  the  incalculable  mischief  of  the 
injury  to  each  defrauded  person,  producing  collateral 
effect  unexpectedly.  My  neighbour  sells  me  bad  meat : I 
sell  him  in  return  flawed  iron.  We  neither  of  us  get  one 
atom  of  pecuniary  advantage  on  the  whole  transaction, 
l)ut  we  both  suffer  unexpected  inconvenience ; my  men 
get  scurvy,  and  his  cattle-truck  runs  off  the  rails. 

105.  The  examination  of  this  form  of  Charis  must, 


96 


MTJNEEA  PULVERIS. 


tlierefore,  lead  ns  into  the  discussion  of  the  principles  of 
government  in  general,  and  especially  of  that  of  the  poor 
hy  the  rich,  discovering  how  the  Graciousness  joined  with 
the  Greatness,  or  Love  with  Majestas,  is  the  true  Dei 
Gratia,  or  Divine  flight,  of  every  form  and  manner  of 
King;  i,  e.^  specifically,  of  the  thrones,  dominations, 
princedoms,  virtues,  and  powers  of  the  earth : — of  the 
thrones,  stable,  or  “ ruling,”  literally  right-doing  powers 
( rex  eris,  recte  si  facies  ” ) : — of  the  dominations — lordly, 
edifying,  dominant  and  harmonious  powers ; chiefiy  domes- 
tic, over  the  “ built  thing,”  domus,  or  house ; and  inherently 
twofold,  Dominus  and  Domina ; Lord  and  Lady  : — of  the 
Princedoms,  pre-eminent,  incipient,  creative,  and  demon- 
strative powers ; thus  poetic  and  mercantile,  in  the  “ prin- 
ceps  carmen  deduxisse  ” and  the  merchant-prince  : — of  the 
Virtues  or  Courages  ; militant,  guiding,  or  Ducal  powers : 
-—and  finally  of  the  Strengths,  or  Forces  pure ; magistral 
powers,  of  the  More  over  the  less,  and  the  forceful  and 
jjree  over  thVweak  and  servile  elements  of  life. 

Subject  enough  for  the  next  paper,  involving  econo- 
mical ” priiicipl^s  of  some  importance,  of  which,  for 
theme,  here  is  a sentence,  which  I do  not  care  to  translate, 
for  it  would  sound  harsh  in  English,'^  though,  truly,  it  is 


[*  My  way  now,  is  to  say  things  plainly,  if  I can,  whether  they 
sound  harsh  or  not; — this  is  the  translation — “ Is  it  poesible,  then,  that 
as  a horse  is  only  a mischief  to  any  one  who  attempts  to  use  him  with- 
out knowing  how,  so  also  our  brother,  if  we  attempt  to  use  him  without 
knowing  how,  may  be  a mischief  to  us  ? ”] 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


97 


one  of  the  teiiderest  ever  uttered  by  man ; which  may  be 
meditated  over,  or  rather  through^  in  the  meanwhile,  l>y 
any  one  who  will  take  the  pains : — 

’Ap  6lv^  &<rirep  '/iriros  t<3  ttvemaT^fioui  fx'fv  tyx^tpovvri  8e 
iarlv^  ouTw  Kal  a8e\^bs,  oray  ns  awTW  iiri(Tr6.p.fvos  «7X®‘P  C^J®*® 

e(TTt  ; 

5 


98 


MTJNERA  PULVERIS. 


CHAPTEE  y. 

GOVERNMENT. 

106.  It  remains  for  ns,  as  I stated  in  the  close  of  the  last 
chapter,  to  examine  first  the  principles  of  government  in 
general,  and  then  those  of  the  government  of  the  Poor  by 
the  Eich. 

The  government  of  a state  consists  in  its  customs,  laws, 
and  councils,  and  their  enforcements. 

I.  Customs. 

As  one  person  primarily  differs  from  another  by  fineness 
of  nature,  and,  secondarily,  by  fineness  of  training,  so 
also,  a polite  nation  differs  from  a savage  one,  first,  by  the 
refinement  of  its  nature,  and  secondly  by  the  delicacy  of 
its  customs. 

In  the  completeness  of  custom,  which  is  the  nation’s 
selfigovernment,  there  are  three  stages — first,  fineness  in 
method  of  doing  or  of  being; — called  the  manner  or 
moral  of  acts ; secondly,  firmness  in  holding  such  method 
after  adoption,  so  that  it  shall  become  a habit  in  the  char- 
acter : i.  6.,  a constant  “ having  ” or  “ behaving ; ” and, 
lastly,  ethical  power  in  performance  and  endurance,  which 


MUNERA  PULVERI8. 


99 


is  the  skill  following  on  habit,  and  the  ease  reached  hy 
frequency  of  right  doing. 

The  sensibility  of  the  nation  is  indicated  by  the  fineness 
of  its  customs ; its  courage,  continence,  and  self-respect  by 
its  persistence  in  them. 

By  sensibility  I mean  its  natural  perception  of  beauty, 
fitness,  and  rightness ; or  of  what  is  lovely,  decent,  and 
just : faculties  dependent  much  on  race,  and  the  primal 
signs  of  fine  breeding  in  man;  but  cultivable  also  by  edu- 
cation, and  necessarily  perishing  without  it.  True  educa- 
tion has,  indeed,  no  other  function  than  the  development 
of  these  faculties,  and  of  the  relative  will.  It  has  been 
the  great  error  of  modern  intelligence  to  mistake  science 
for  education.  You  do  not  educate  a man  by  telling  him 
what  he  knew  not,  but  by  making  him  what  he  was  not. 

And  making  him  what  he  will  remain  for  ever:  for  no 
wash  of  weeds  will  bring  back  the  faded  purple.  And  in 
that  dyeing  there  are  two  processes — first,  the  cleansing  and 
wringing-out,  which  is  the  baptism  with  water ; and  then 
the  infusing  of  the  blue  and  scarlet  colours,  gentleness 
and  justice,  which  is  the  baptism  with  fire. 

107  * customs  and  manners  of  a sensitive  and 
highly-trained  race  are  always  Vital : that  is  to  say,  they 
are  orderly  manifestations  of  intense  life,  like  the  habitual 
action  of  the  fingers  of  a musician.  The  customs  and 

[*  Think  over  this  paragraph  carefully  ; it  should  have  been  much  ex- 
panded to  be  quite  intelligible  ; but  it  contains  all  that  I want  it  to 
contain.] 


100 


MtJNEKA  PULYERIS. 


manners  of  a vile  and  rnde  race,  on  the  contrary,  are  con- 
ditions of  decay  : they  are  not,  properly  speaking,  habits, 
l)iit  incrustations;  not  restraints,  or  forms,  of  life;  but 
gangrenes,  noisome,  and  the  beginnings  of  death. 

And  generally,  so  far  as  custom  attaches  itself  to  indo- 
lence instead  of  action,  and  to  prejudice  instead  of 
perception,  it  takes  this  deadly  character,  so  that  thus 

Custom  hangs  upon  us  with  a weight 
Heavy  as  frost,  and  deep  almost  as  life. 

But  that  weight,  if  it  become  impetus,  (living  instead 
of  dead  weight)  is  just  what  gives  value  to  custom,  when 
it  works  with  life,  instead  of  against  it. 

108.  The  high  ethical  training  of  a nation  implies  per- 
fect Grace,  Pitifulness,  and  Peace ; it  is  ii'reconcilably 
inconsistent  with  filthy  or  mechanical  employments, — with 
the  desire  of  money, — and  with  mental  states  of  anxiety, 
jealousy,  or  indifference  to  pain.  The  present  insensi- 
bility of  the  upper  classes  of  Europe  to  the  surrounding 
aspects  of  suffering,  uncleanness,  and  crime,  binds  them 
not  only  into  one  responsibility  with  the  sin,  but  into  one 
dishonom*  with  the  foulness,  which  rot  at  their  thresholds. 
The  crimes  daily  recorded  in  the  police-courts  of  London 
and  Paris  (and  much  more  those  which  are  ?/?irecorded) 
are  a disgrace  to  the  whole  body  politic  ; * they  are,  as  in 

* “ The  ordinary  brute,  who  flourishes  in  the  very  centre  of  ornate 
life,  tells  us  of  unknown  depths  on  the  verge  of  which  we  totter,  being 
bound  to  thank  our  stars  every  day  we  live  that  there  is  not  a general 


MUNEEA  PULVERIS. 


101 


the  body  natural,  stains  of  disease  on  a face  of  delicate 
skin,  making  the  delicacy  itself  frightful.  Similarly,  the 
tilth  and  poverty  permitted  or  ignored  in  the  midst  of  us 
are  as  dishonourable  to  the  whole  social  body,  as  in  the 
body  natural  it  is  to  wash  the  face,  but  leave  the  hands 
and  feet  foul.  Christ’s  way  is  the  only  true  one : begin  at 
the  feet ; the  face  will  take  care  of  itself. 

109.  Yet,  since  necessarily,  in  the  frame  of  a nation,, 
nothing  but  the  head  can  be  of  gold,  and  the  feet,  for  tho 
w'ork  they  have  to  do,  must  be  part  of  iron,  part  of  clay  ; — 
foul  or  mechanical  work  is  always  reduced  by  a noble  race 
to  the  minimum  in  quantity ; and,  even  then,  performed 
and  endured,  not  without  sense  of  degradation,  as  a fine 
temper  is  wounded  by  tlie  sight  of  the  lower  offices  of  the 
body.  The  highest  conditions  of  human  society  reached 
hitherto  have  cast  such  work  to  slaves;  but  supposing 
slavery  of  a politically  defined  kind  to  be  done  away  wnth, 
mechanical  and  foul  employment  must,  in  all  highly  or 
ganized  states,  take  the  aspect  either  of  punishment  or 
probation.  All  criminals  should  at  once  be  set  to  the 
most  dangerous  and  painful  forms  of  it,  especially  to  work 
in  mines  and  at  furnaces,'*'*  so  as  to  relieve  the'  innocent 

outbreak,  and  a revolt  from  the  yoke  of  civilization,” — Times  leader- 
Dec.  25,  1862.  Admitting  that  our  stars  are  to  be  thanked  for  our  safety, 
■whom  are  we  to  thank  for  the  danger  ? 

* Our  politicians,  even  the  best  of  them,  regard  only  the  distress 
caused  by  the  failure  of  mechanical  labour.  The  degradation  caused 
by  its  excess  is  a far  more  serious  subject  of  thought,  and  of  future  fear. 
I shall  examine  tkia  part  of  our  subject  at  length  hereafter.  There  cast 


102 


MUNEBA  PTJLVERIS. 


population  as  far  as  possible : of  merely  rough  (not  me- 
chanical) manual  labour,  especially  agricultural,  a large 
jyortion  should  he  done  hy  the  ujpjyer  classes ; — hodily 
healthy  and  sufficient  coiitrast  and  repose  for  the  onental 

hardly  be  any  doubt,  at  present,  cast  on  the  truth  of  the  above  passages, 
as  all  the  great  thinkers  are  unanimous  on  the  matter.  Plato’s  words 
are  terrific  in  their  scorn  and  pity  whenever  he  touches  on  the  mechan- 
ical arts.  He  calls  the  men  employed  in  them  not  even  human,  but 
partially  and  diminutively  human,  avOpuTtLanoL^'"  and  opposes  such 
work  to  noble  occupations,  not  merely  as  prison  is  opposed  to  freedom, 
but  as  a convict’s  dishonoured  prison  is  to  the  temple  (escape  from  them 
being  like  that  of  a criminal  to  the  sanctuary) ; and  the  destruction 
caused  by  them  being  of  soul  no  less  than  body. — Rep.  vi.  9.  Compare 
Laws^  V.  11.  Xenophon  dwells  on  the  evil  of  occupations  at  the  fur- 
nace and  especially  their  aoxoAia^  want  of  leisure.” — Econ.  i.  4. 
(Modern  England,  with  all  its  pride  of  education,  has  lost  that  first 
sense  of  the  word  “school;”  and  till  it  recover  that,  it  will  find 
no  other  rightly. ) His  word  for  the  harm  to  the  soul  is  to  “break” 
it,  as  we  say  of  the  heart. — Econ.  i.  6.  And  herein,  also,  is  the  root 
of  the  scorn,  otherwise  apparently  most  strange  and  cruel,  with  which 
Homer,  Dante,  and  Shakspeare  always  speak  of  the  populace  ; for  it  is 
entirely  true  that,  in  great  states,  the  lower  orders  are  low  by  nature  as 
well  as  by  task,  being  precisely  that  part  of  the  commonwealth  which 
has  been  thrust  down  for  its  coarseness  or  unworthiness  (by  coarseness  I 
mean  especially  insensibility  and  irreverence — the  “ profane”  of  Horace) ; 
and  when  this  ceases  to  be  so,  and  the  corruption  and  profanity  are  in 
the  higher  instead  of  the  lower  orders,  there  arises,  first,  helpless  confu- 
sion ; then,  if  the  lower  classes  deserve  power,  ensues  swift  revolution, 
and  they  get  it ; but  if  neither  the  populace  nor  their  rulers  deserve  it, 
there  follows  mere  darkness  and  dissolution,  till,  out  of  the  putrid  ele- 
ments, some  new  capacity  of  order  rises,  like  grass  on  a grave  ; if  not, 
there  is  no  more  hope,  nor  shadqw  of  turning,  for  that  nation.  ^ Atropos 
has  her  way  with  it. 

So  that  the  law  of  national  health  is  like  that  of  a great  lake  or  sea, 
in  perfect  but  slow  circulation,  letting  the  dregs  fall  continually  to  the 
lowest  place,  and  the  clear  water  rise  ; yet  so  as  that  there  shall  be  no 
neglect  of  the  lower  orders,  but  perfect  supervision  and  sympathy,  so 
that  if  one  member  suffer,  all  members  shall  suffer  with  it. 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


103 


fimctions,  being  \mattainable  without  it ; what  neces- 
sarily inferior  labour  remains  to  be  done,  as  especially  in 
manufactures,  should,  and  always  will,  when  the  relations 
of  society  are  reverent  and  harmonious,  fall  to  the  lot  of 
those  who,  for  the  time,  are  fit  for  nothing  better.  For 
as,  whatever  the  perfectness  of  the  educational  system, 
there  must  remain  infinite  differences  between  the  natures 
and  capacities  of  men;  and  these  differing  natures  are 
generally  rangeable  under  the  two  qualities  of  lordly,  (or 
tending  towards  rule,  construction,  and  harmony),  and  ser- 
vile (or  tending  towards  misrule,  destruction,  and  discord) ; 
and,  since  the  lordly  part  is  only  in  a state  of  profitable- 
ness while  ruling,  and  the  servile  only  in  a state  of 
redeemableness  while  serving,  the  whole  health  of  the  state 
depends  on  the  manifest  separation  of  these  two  elements 
of  its  mind  ; for,  if  the  servile  part  be  not  separated  and 
rendered  visible  in  service,  it  nlixes  with,  and  corrupts,  the 
entire  body  of  the  state ; and  if  the  lordly  part  be  not  dis- 
tinguished, and  set  to  rule,  it  is  crushed  and  lost,  being 
turned  to  no  account,  so  that  the  rarest  qualities  of  the 
nation  are  all  given  to  it  in  vain.* 

II.  Laws. 

110.  These  are  the  definitions  and  bonds  of  custom, 
or  of  what  the  nation  desires  should  become  custom. 

♦ “ Kai  -yiyvofievijgy  (Little,  and  that  little  born  in  vain.) 

The  bitter  sentence  never  was  so  true  as  at  this  day. 


104 


MUNEEA  PULVERIS. 


Law  is  either  archie,*  (of  direction),  meristic,  (of  divi- 
■sion),  or  critic,  (of  judgment). 

Archie  law  is  that  of  appointment  and  precept:  it  des- 
tines what  is  and  is  not  to  be  done. 

Meristic  law  is  that  of  balance  and  distribution : it  de- 
fines what  is  and  is  not  to  ho;  jpossessed. 

Critic  law  is  that  of  discernment  and  award : it  defines 
wdiat  is  and  is  not  to  be  suffered. 

111.  A.  Archio  Law.  If  we  choose  to  unite  the  laws 
of  precept  and  distribution  under  the  head  of  “statutes,” 
all  law  is  simply  either  of  statute  or  judgment;  that  is, 
fii-st  the  establishment  of  ordinance,  and,  secondly,  the 
assignment  of  the  reward,  or  penalty,  due  to  its  observance 
or  violation. 

To  some  extent  these  two  forms  of  law  must  be  asso- 
ciated, and,  with  every  ordinance,  the  penalty  of  disobe- 
dience to  it  be  also  determined.  But  since  the  degrees 

* [This  following- note  is  a mere  cluster  of  memoranda,  but  I keep 
it  for  reference.]  Thetic,  or  Thesmic,  would  perhaps  be  a better  term 
than  archie  ; but  liable  to  be  confused  with  some  which  we  shall  want 
relating  to  Theoria.  The  administrators  of  the  three  great  divisions  of 
law  are  severally  Archons,  Merists,  and  Dicasts.  The  Archons  are  the 
true  princes,  or  beginners  of  things;  or  leaders  (as  of  an  orchestra). 
The  Merists  are  properly  the  Domini,  or  Lords  of  houses  and  nations. 
The  Dicasts,  properly,  the  judges,  and  that  with  Olympian  justice, 
which  reaches  to  heaven  and  hell.  The  violation  of  archie  law  is  afiaprla 
(error),  Trovrjpia  (failure), or  irAr/ju/xeAeia  (discord).  The  violation  of  meristic 
law  is  avofiia  (iniquity).  The  violation  of  critic  law  is  hBiKia  (injury); 
Iniquity  is  the  central  generic  term ; for  all  law  is  fatal ; it  is  the 
division  to  men  of  their  fate ; as  the  fold  of  their  pasture,  it  is  »'0;uos ; 
as  the  assigning  of  their  portion,  juoTpa. 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


105 


^ncl  guilt  of  disobedience  vary,  the  determination  of  due 
reward  and  punishment  must  be  moditied  by  discernment 
of  special  fact,  which  is  peculiarly  the  office  of  the  judge, 
as  distinguished  from  that  of  the  lawgiver  and  law-sus- 
tainer,  or  king ; not  but  that  the  two  offices  are  always 
theoretically,  and  in  early  stages,  or  limited  numbers,  of 
society,  are  often  practically,  united  in  the  same  person  or 
persons. 

112.  Also,  it  is  necessary  to  keep  clearly  in  view  the 
distinction  between  these  two  kinds  of  law,  because  the 
possible  range  of  law  is  wider  in  proportion  to  their  sepa- 
ration. There  are  many  j)oints  of  conduct  respecting 
which  the  nation  may  wisely  express  its  will  by  a written 
precept  or  resolve,  yet  not  enforce  it  by  penalty  :*  and  the 
expedient  degree  of  penalty  is  always  quite  a separate 
consideration  from  the  expedience  of  the  statute ; for  the 
{Statute  may  often  be  better  enforced  by  mercy  than 
severity,  and  is  also  easier  in  the  bearing,  and  less  likely 
to  be  abrogated.  Farther,  laws  of  precept  have  reference 
especially  to  youth,  and  concern  themselves  with  training ; 
but  laws  of  judgment  to  manhood,  and  concern  themselYes 
with  remedy  and  reward.  There  is  a highly  curious 

[*  This  is  the  only  sentence  which,  in  revising  these  essays,  I am 
now  inclined  to  question ; but  the  point  is  one  of  extreme  difficulty. 
There  might  be  a law,  for  instance,  of  curfew,  that  candles  should  be 
put  out,  unless  for  necessary  service,  at  such  and  such  an  hour,  the  idea 
of  necessary  service  ” being  quite  indefinable,  and  no  penalty  possible  ; 
yet  there  would  be  a distinct  consciousness  of  illegal  conduct  in  young 
ladies’  minds  who  danced  by  candlelight  till  dawn.  J 


106 


MUNEKA  PULVERIS. 


feeling  in  the  English  mind  against  educational  law:  we 
think  no  man’s  liberty  should  be  interfered  with  till  he 
has  done  irrevocable  wrong;  whereas  it  is  then  just  too 
late  for  the  only  gracious  and  kingly  interference,  which 
is  to  hinder  him  from  doing  it.  Make  your  educational 
laws  strict,  and  yom*  criminal  ones  may  be  gentle;  but, 
leave  youth  its  liberty,  and  you  will  have  to  dig  dungeons 
for  age.  And  it  is  good  for  a man  that  he  “ wear  the  yoke 
in  his  youth:  ” for  the  reins  may  then  be -of  silken  thread; 
and  with  sweet  chime  of  silver  bells  at  the  bridle;  but, 
for  the  captivity  of  age,  you  must  forge  the  ii’on  fetter, 
and  cast  the  passing  bell. 

11'3.  Since  no  law  can  be,  in  a final  or  true  sense,  estab- 
lished, but  by  right,  (all  unjust  laws  involving  the  ultimate 
necessity  of  their  own  abrogation),  the  law-giving  can  only 
become  a law-sustaining  power  in  so  far  as  it  is  Royal,  or 
“ right  doing ; ” — in  so  far,  that  is,  as  it  rules,  not  mis- 
rules, and  orders,  not  dis-orders,  the  tilings  submitted  to  it. 
Throned  on  this  rock  of  justice,  the  kingly  power  becomes 
established  and  establishing ; “ or  divine,  and, 

therefore,  it  is  literally  true  that  no  ruler  can  err,  so  long 
as  he  is  a ruler,  or  dp)((ov  ovSeU  dfiapravei  Tore  orav 
dpx(t>v  y ; perverted  by  careless  thought,  which  has  cost 
the  world  somewhat,  into — “ the  king  can  do  no  wi'ong.” 

114.  B.  Meristic  Law,*  or  that  of  the  tenure  of  pro- 

(*  Read  tMs  and  the  next  paragraph  with  attention ; they  contain 
clear  statements,  which  I cannot  mend,  of  things  most  necessary.] 


MUNEEA  PULVERIS. 


107 


perty,  first  determines  wliat  every  individual  possesses  by 
right,  and  secures  it  to  him;  and  what  he  possesses  by 
wrong,  and  deprives  him  of  it.  But  it  has  a far  higher 
provisory  function  : it  determines  what  every  man  should 
possess,  and  puts  it  within  his  reach  on  due  conditions ; 
and  what  he  should  not  possess,  and  puts  this  out  of  his 
reach,  conclusively. 

115.  Every  article  of  human  wealth  has  certain  condi- 
tions attached  to  its  merited  possession;  when  these  are 
unobserved,  possession  becomes  rapine.  And  the  object 
of  meristic  law  is  not  only  to  secure  to  every  man  his 
rightful  share  (the  share,  that  is,  which  he  has  worked  for, 
produced,  or  received  by  gift  from  a rightful  owner),  but 
to  enforce  the  due  conditions  of  possession,  as  far  as  law 
may  conveniently  reach ; for  instance,  that  land  shall  not 
be  wantonly  allowed  to  run  to  waste,  that  streams  shall 
not  be  poisoned  by  the  persons  through  whose  properties 
they  pass,  nor  air  be  rendered  unwholesome  beyond  given 
limits.  Laws  of  this  kind  exist  already  in  rudimentary 
degree,  but  need  large  development:  the  just  laws  re- 
specting the  possession  of  works  of  art  have  not  hitherto 
been  so  much  as  conceived,  and  the  daily  loss  of  national 
\vealth,  and  of  its  use,  in  this  respect,  is  quite  incalculable. 
And  these  laws  need  revision  quite  as  much  respecting 
property  in  national  as  in  private  hands.  For  instance : 
the  public  are  under  a vague  impression  that,  because  they 
have  paid  for  the  contents  of  the  British  Museum,  every 
one  has  an  equal  right  to  see  and  to  handle  them.  But  the 


108 


MUNERA  PULVERI8. 


public  have  similarly  paid  for  the  contents  of  Woolwich 
arsenal ; yet  do  not  expect  free  access  to  it,  or  handling  of 
its  contents.  The  British  Museum  is  neither  a free  circu- 
lating library,  nor  a free  school : it  is  a place  for  the  safe 
preservation,  and  exhibition  on  due  occasion,  of  unique 
books,  unique  objects  of  natural  history,  and  unique  works 
of  art ; its  books  can  no  more  be  used  by  everybody  than  its 
coins  can  be  handled,  or  its  statues  cast.  There  ought  to 
be  free  libraries  in  every  quarter  of  London,  with  large 
and  complete  reading-rooms  attached ; so  also  free  educa- 
tional museums  should  be  open  in  eveiy  quarter  of  Lon- 
don, all  day  long,  until  late  at  night,  well  lighted,  well 
catalogued,  and  rich  in  contents  both  of  art  and  natural 
history.  But  neither  the  British  Museum  nor  I^ational 
Gallery  is  a school ; they  are  treasuries ; and  both  should 
be  severely  restricted  in  access  and  in  use.  Unless  some 
order  of  this  kind  is  made,  and  that  soon,  for  the  MSS. 
department  of  the  Museum,  (its  superintendents  have  sor- 
rowfully told  me  this,  and  repeatedly),  the  best  MSS.  in 
the  collection  will  be  destroyed,  irretrievably,  by  the  care- 
less and  continual  handling  to  which  they  are  now^  sub- 
jected. 

Finally,  in  certain  conditions  of  a nation’s  progress,  laws 
limiting  accumulation  of  any  kind  of  property  may  be 
found  expedient. 

116.  C.  Critic  Law  determines  questions  of  injury,  and 
assigns  due  rewards  and  punishments  to  conduct. 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


109 


Two  curious  economical  questions  arise  laterally  with 
respect  to  this  branch  of  law,  namely,  the  cost  of  crime, 
and  the  cost  of  judgment.  Tlie  cost  of  crime  is  endured 
by  nations  ignorantly,  that  expense  being  nowhere  stated 
in  their  budgets;  the  cost  of  judgment,  patiently,  (pro- 
vided only  it  can  be  had  pure  for  the  money),  because  the 
science,  or  perhaps  we  ought  rather  to  say  the  art,  of  law, 
is  felt  to  found  a noble  profession  and  discipline ; so  that 
civilized  nations  are  usually  glad  that  a number  of  per- 
sons should  be  supported  by  exercise  in  oratory  and  analy- 
sis. But  it  has  not  yet  been  calculated  what  the  practical 
value  might  have  been,  in  other  directions,  of  the  intelli- 
gence now  occupied  in  deciding,  through  courses  of  years, 
what  might  have  been  decided  as  justly,  had  the  date  of 
judgment  been  fixed,  in  as  many  hours.  Imagine  one 
half  of  the  funds  which  any  great  nation  devotes  to  dis- 
pute by  law,  applied  to  the  determination  of  physical 
questions  in  medicine,  agriculture,  and  theoretic  science ; 
and  calculate  the  probable  results  within  the  next  ten 
years ! 

I say  nothing  yet  of  the  more  deadly,  more  lamentable 
loss,  involved  in  the  use  of  purchased,  instead  of  personal, 
justice — “ €7ra/tr«  Trap’  aWcov — airopla  olKeioav.’’^ 

117.  In  order  to  true  anylysis  of  critic  law,  we  must 
understand  the  real  meaning  of  the  word  “ injury.” 

We  commonly  understand  by  it,  any  kind  of  harm  done 
by  one  man  to  another ; but  we  do  not  define  the  idea  of 
harm : sometimes  we  limit  it  to  the  harm  which  the  suf- 


110 


MUNEEA  PULVERIS. 


ferer  is  conscious  of;  whereas  much  the  worst  injuries 
are  those  he  is  'w?^conscious  of ; and,  at  other  times,  we 
limit  the  idea  to  violence,  or  restraint ; whereas  much  the 
worse  forms  of  injury  are  to  be  accomplished  by  indo- 
lence, and  the  withdrawal  of  restraint. 

118.  “Injury”  is  then  simply  the  refusal,  or  violation 
of,  any  man’s  right  or  claim  upon  his  fellows:  which 
claim,  much  talked  of  in  modern  times,  under  the  term 
“right,”  is  mainly  resolvable  into  two  branches : a man’s 
claim  not  to  be  hindered  from  doing  what  he  should ; and 
his  claim  to  be  hindered  from  doing  what  he  should  not ; 
these  two  forms  of  hindrance  being  intensified  by  reward, 
help,  and  fortune,  or  Fors,  on  one  side,  and  by  punish- 
ment, impediment,  and  even  final  arrest,  or  Mors,  on  the 
other. 

119.  Now,  in  order  to  a man’s  obtaining  these  two 
rights,  it  is  clearly  needful  that  the  worth  of  him  should 
be  approximately  known ; as  well  as  the  want  of  w^orth, 
which  has,  unhappily,  been  usually  the  principal  subject 
of  study  for  critic  law,  careful  hitherto  only  to  mark 
-degrees  of  de-merit,  instead  of  merit; — assigning,  indeed, 
to  the  Z^^ficiencies  (not  always,  alas!  even  to  these)  just 
estimate,  fine,  or  penalty ; but  to  the  .^ficiencies,  on  the 
other  side,  which  are  by  much  the  more  interesting,  as  well 
as  the  only  profitable  part  of  its  subject,  assigning  neither 
estimate  nor  aid. 

120.  Now,  it  is  in  this  higher  and  perfect  function  of 
critic  law,  enabling  instead  of  Z^5abling,  that  it  becomes 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


Ill 


truly  Kingly,  instead  of  Draconic : (what  Providence  gave 
the  great,  wrathful  legislator  his  name?):  that  is,  it  be- 
comes the  law  of  man  and  of  life,  instead  of  the  law  of 
the  worm  and  of  death — both  of  these  laws  being  set  in 
changeless  poise  one  against  another,  and  the  enforcement 
of  both  being  the  eternal  function  of  the  lawgiver,  and 
true  claim  of  every  living  soul : such  claim  being  indeed 
strong  to  be  mercifully  hindered,  and  even,  if  need  be, 
abolished,  when  longer  existence  means  only  deeper  de- 
struction, but  stronger  still  to  be  mercifully  helped,  and 
recreated,  when  longer  existence  and  new  creation  mean 
nobler  life.  So  that  reward  and  punishment  will  be  found 
to  resolve  themselves  mainly*  into  help  and  hindrance ; 
and  these  again  will  issue  naturally  from  true  recognition 
of  deserving,  and  the  just  reverence  and  just  wrath  which 
follow  instinctively  on  such  recognition. 

121.  I say,  “ follow,”  but,  in  reality,  they  are  part  of 
the  recognition.  PeA’erence  is  as  instinctive  as  anger  ; — 
both  of  them  instant  on  true  vision : it  is  sight  and  under 
standing  that  we  have  to  teach,  and  these  are  reverence. 
Make  a man  perceive  worth,  and  in  its  reflection  he  sees 
his  own  relative  unworth,  and  worships  thereupon  inevi- 
tably, not  with  stiff  courtesy,  but  rejoicingly,  passionately, 
and,  best  of  all,  restfuUy  : for  the  inner  capacity  of  awe 
and  love  is  infinite  in  man  ; and  only  in  finding  these,  can 

[*  Mainly ; not  altogether.  Conclusive  reward  of  high  virtue  is 
loving  and  crowning,  not  helping  ; and  conclusive  punishment  of  deep 
vice  is  hating  and  crushing,  not  merely  hindering.] 


112  MUNERA  PULVERIS. 

Ave  find  peace.  And  the  common  insolences  and  petu- 
lances of  the  people,  and  their  talk  of  equality,  are  not 
irreverence  in  them  in  the  least,  but  mere  blindness,  stupe- 
faction, and  fog  in  the  brains,*  tlie  first  sign  of  any 
cleansing  away  of  which  is,  that  they  gain  some  power  of 
discerning,  and  some  patience  in  submitting  to,  their  true 
counsellors  and  governors.  In  the  mode  of  such  discern- 
ment consists  the  real  “ constitution  ” of  the  state,  more 
than  in  the  titles  or  offices  of  the  discerned  person;  for  it 
is  no  matter,  save  in  degree  of  mischief,  to  what  ofiice  a 
man  is  appointed,  if  he  cannot  fulfil  it. 

122.  III.  Governjvient  by  Council. 

This  is  the  determination,  by  living  authority,  of  the 
national  conduct  to  be  observed  under  existing  circum- 
stances ; and  the  modification  or  enlargement,  abrogation 
or  enforcement,  of  the  code  of  national  law  according  'to 
present  needs  or  purposes.  This  government  is  necessa- 
rily always  by  council,  for  though  the  authonty  of  it  may 
be  vested  in  one  person,  that  person  cannot  form  aii}^ 
opinion  on  a matter  of  public  interest  but  by  (voluntarily 
or  involuntarily)  submitting  himself  to  the  influence  of 
others. 

This  government  is  always  twofold — Aisible  and  in- 
visible. 

* Compare  Chaucer’s  “ villany  ” (clownisliness). 

Full  foul  and  chorlishe  seemed  she, 

And  eke  villanous  for  to  be, 

And  little  coulde  of  norture  ‘ 

To  worship  any  creature. 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


113 


The  visible  government  is  that  which  nominally  carries 
on  the  national  business ; determines  its  foreign  relations, 
raises  taxes,  levies  soldiers,  orders  war  or  peace,  and  other- 
wise becomes  the  arbiter  of  the  national  fortune.  The 
invisible  government  is  that  exercised  by  all  energetic  and 
intelligent  men,  each  in  his  sphere,  regulating  the  inner 
will  and  secret  ways  of  the  people,  essentially  forming  its 
character,  and  preparing  its  fate. 

Visible  governments  are  the  toys  of  some  nations,  the 
diseases  of  others,  tlie  harness  of  some,  the  burdens  of 
more,  the  necessity  of  all.  Sometimes  their  career  is  quite 
distinct  from  that  of  the  people,  and  to  write  it,  as  the 
national  history,  is  as  if  one  should  number  the  accidents 
which  befall  a man’s  weapons  and  wardrobe,  and  call  the 
list  his  biography.  Nevertheless,  a truly  noble  and  wise 
nation  necessarily  has  a noble  and  wdse  visible  govern- 
ment, for  its  wisdom  issues  in  that  conclusively. 

123.  Visible  governments  are,  in  their  agencies,  capable 
of  three  pure  forms,  and  of  no  more  than  three. 

They  are  either  monarchies,  where  the  authority  is 
vested  in  one  person ; oligarchies,  w^hen  it  is  vested  in  a 
minority ; or  democracies,  when  vested  in  a majority. 

But  these  three  forms  are  not  only,  in  practice,  variously 
limited  and  combined,  but  capable  of  infinite  difference 
in  character  and  use,  receiving  specific  names  according 
to  their  variations;  which  names,  being  nowise  agreed 
upon,  nor  consistently  used,  either  in  thought  or  writing, 
no  man  can  at  present  tell,  in  speaking  of  any  kind  of 


114 


MUKEKA  PULVERIS. 


governmentj  whether  he  is  understood ; nor,  in  hearing, 
whether  he  understands.  Thus  we  usually  call  a just 
government  by  one  person  a monarchy,  and  an  unjust  or 
cruel  one,  a tyranny : this  might  be  reasonable  if  it  had 
reference  to  the  divinity  of  true  government ; but  to  limit 
the  term  “ oligarchy  ” to  government  by  a few  rich  people, 
and  to  call  government  by  a few  wise  or  noble  people 
“ aristocracy,”  is  evidently  absurd,  unless  it  were  proved 
that  rich  people  never  could  be  wise,  or  noble  people  rich; 
and  farther  absurd,  because  there  are  other  distinctions  in 
character,  as  well  as  riches  or  wisdom  (greater  purity  of 
race,  or  strength,  of  purpose,  for  instance),  which  may  give 
the  power  of  government  to  the  few.  So  that  if  we  had 
to  give  names  to  every  group  or  kind  of  minority,  we 
should  have  verbiage  enough.  But  there  is  only  one  right 
name— “ oligarchy.” 

^ 124.  So  also  the  terms  “ republic  ” and  “ democracy  ” * 
are  confused,  especially  in  modern  use ; and  both  of  them 
are  liable  to  every  sort  of  misconception.  A republic 
means,  properly,  a polity  in  which  the  state,  with  its  all,  is 
at  every  man’s  service,  and  every  man,  with  his  all,  at  the 
state’s  service — (people  are  apt  to  lose  sight  of  the  last 
condition),  but  its  government  may  nevertheless  be  oligar- 
chic (consular,  or  decemviral,  for  instance),  or  monarchic 
(dictatorial).  But  a democracy  means  a state  in  which  the 

[ * I leave  this  paragraph,  in  every  syllable,  as  it  was  written,  during 
the  rage  of  the  American  .war ; it  was  meant  to  refer,  however,  chiefly 
to  the  Northerns  : what  modifications  its  hot  and  partial  terms  require 
I will  give  in  another  place ; let  it  stand  here  as  it  stood.] 


MUJNEEA  PULVERIS. 


115 


government  rests  direetly  with  the  majority  of  the  citizens. 
And  both  these  conditions  have  been  judged  only  l)y  such 
accidents  and  aspects  of  them  as  each  of  us  has  had  expe- 
rience of;  and  sometimes  both  have  been  confused  with 
anarchy,  as  it  is  the  fashion  at  present  to  talk  of  the 
“ failure  of  republican  institutions  in  America,”  when  there 
has  never  yet  been  in  America  any  such  thing  as  an  insti- 
tution, but  only  defiance  of  institution;  neither  any  such 
thing  as  a res-piMica,  but  only  a multitudinous  res-privata  / 
every  man  for  himself.  It  is  not  republicanism  wdiich 
fails  now  in  America ; it  is  your  model  science  of  political 
economy,  brought  to  its  perfect  practice.  There  you  may 
see  competition,  and  the  “ law  of  demand  and  supply  ” 
(especially  in  paper),  in  beautiful  and  unhindered  opera- 
tion.* Lust  of  wealth,  and  trust  in  it ; vulgar  faith  in 
magnitude  and  multitude,  instead  of  nobleness ; besides 
that  faith  natural  to  backwoodsmen— “ lucum  ligna,”t — 
perpetual  self-contemplation,  issuing  in  passionate  vanity  ; 
total  ignorance  of  tlie  finer  and  higher  arts,  and  of  all 
that  they  teach  and  bestow ; and  the  discontent  of  ener- 
getic minds  unoccupied,  frantic  with  hope  of  uncompre- 


* Supply  and  demand  ! Alas  ! for  what  noble  work  was  there  ever 
any  audible  “demand”  in  that  poor  sense  (Past  and  Present)  ? Nay, 
the  demand  is  not  loud,  even  for  ignoble  work.  See  “ Average  Earnings 
of  Betty  Taylor,”  in  Timee  of  4th  February  of  this  year  [1863]  ; 
“ Worked  from  Monday  morning  at  8 a.m.  to  Friday  night  at  5.30  p.m. 
for  1«.  5^c?.” — Laissez  faire.  [This  kind  of  slavery  finds  no  Abolitionists 
that  I hear  of.  ] 

[f  “ That  the  sacred  grove  is  nothing  but  logs.”] 


116 


MUNEEA  PULVERIS. 


bended  change,  and  progress  they  know  not  whither  ; * — 
these  are  the  things  that  have  “ failed  ” in  America  ; and 
yet  not  altogether  failed — it  is  not  collapse,  hnt  collision  ; 
the  greatest  railroad  accident  on  record,  with  fire  caught 
from  the  furnace,  and  Catiline’s  quenching  “ non  aqu^,  sed 
ruina.”t  But  I see  not,  in  any  of  our  talk  of  them, 
justice  enough  done  to  their  erratic  strength  of  purpose, 
nor  any  estimate  taken  of  the  strength  of  endurance  of 
domestic  sorrow,  in  what  their  women  and  children  sup- 
pose a righteous  cause.  And  out  of  that  endurance  and 
suffering,  its  own  fruit  will  he  bom  with  time  ; \not  aboli- 
tion of  slavery,  however.  See  § 130.]  and  Carlyle’s  pro- 
phecy of  them  (June,  1850),  as  it  has  now  come  true  in 
the  first  clause,  will,  in  the  last ; — 

“ America,  too,  will  find  that  caucuses,  divisionalists, 
stump-oratory,  and  speeches  to  Buncombe  wilb  not  carry 
men  to  the  immortal  gods  ; that  the  Washington  Congress, 

* Ames,  by  report  of  Waldo  Emerson,  says  “ that  a monarchy  is  a 
merchantman,  which  sails  well,  but  will  sometimes  strike  on  a rock,  and 
go  to  the  bottom  ; whilst  a republic  is  a raft,  which  would  never  sink,  but 
then  your  feet  are  always  in  the  water.”  Yes,  that  is  comfortable;  and 
though  your  raft  cannot  sink  (being  too  worthless  for  that),  it  may  go  to 
pieces,  I suppose,  when  the  four  winds  (your  only  pilots)  steer  competi- 
tively from  its  four  corners,  and  carry  it,  wq  ovcopiyhc  Boperjc;  <pop4riaiv 
aKaveaq^  and  then  more  than  your  feet  will  be  in  the  water. 

[f  “Not  with  water,  but  with  ruin.”  The  worst  ruin  being  that 
which  the  Americans  chiefly  boast  of.  They  sent  all  their  best  and 
honestest  youths.  Harvard  University  men  and  the  like,  to  that  accursed 
war ; got  them  nearly  all  shot ; wrote  pretty  biographies  (to  the  ages  of 
17,  18,  19)  and  epitaphs  for  them ; and  so,  having  washed  all  the  salt 
out  of  the  nation  in  blood,  left  themselves  to  putrefaction,  and  the 
morality  of  New  York.] 


MUNERA  PULVEEIS. 


m 


and  constitutional  battle  of  Kilkenny  cats  is  there,  as  here, 
naught  for  such  objects  ; quite  incompetent  for  such ; and, 
in  fine,  that  said  sublime  constitutional  arrangement  will 
require  to  be  (with  terrible  throes,  and  travail  such  as  few 
expect  yet)  remodelled,  abridged,  extended,  suppressed, 
torn  asunder,  put  together  again; — not  without  heroic 
labour  and  effort,  quite  other  than  that  of  the  stump- 
orator  and  the  revival  preacher,  one  day.” 

125.*  Understand,  then,  once  for  all,  that  no  form  of 
government,  provided  it  be  a government  at  all,  is,  as  such, 
to  be  either  condemned  or  praised,  or  contested  for  in  any- 
wise, but  by  fools.  But  all  forms  of  government  are  good 
just  so  far  as  they  attain  this  one  vital  necessity  of  policy 
— that  the  wise  and  Jcind,  few  or  many,  shall  govern  the 
unwise  and  unkind  ; and  they  are  evil  so  far  as  they  miss 
of  this,  or  reverse  it.  Kor  does  the  form,  in  any  case,  sig- 
nify one  whit,  but  firmness,- adaptation  to  the  need ; 
for  if  there  be  many  foolish  persons  in  a state,  and  few  wise, 
then  it  is  good  that  the  few  govern  ; and  if  there  be  many 
wise,  and  few  foolish,  then  it  is  good  that  the  many  govern 
and  if  many  be  wise,  yet  one  wiser,  then,  it  is  good  that 
one  should  govern  ; and  so  on.  Thus,,  we  may  have  “ the 
ant’s  republic,  and  the  realm  of  bees,”  both,  good  in  their 
kind ; one  for  groping,  and  the  other  for  building ; and 
nobler  still,  for  fiying; — the  Ducal  monarchy  f of  those. 
Intelligent  of  seasons,  that  set  forth 
The  aery  caravan,  high,  over  seas, 

[*  This  paragraph  contains  the  gist  of  all  that  precede.] 

[f  Whenever  you  are  puzzled  by  any  apparently  mistaken  use  of 


118 


MUNERA  PULVEEIS. 


126.  Nor  need  we  want  examples,  among  the  inferior 
creatures,  of  dissoluteness,  as  well  as  resoluteness,  in 
government.  I once  saw  democracy  finely  illustrated  by 
the  beetles  of  North  Switzerland,  who  by  universal  suf- 
frage, and  elytric  acclamation,  one  May  twilight,  carried 
it,  that  they  would  fiy  over  the  Lake  of  Zug ; and  fiew 
short,  to  the  great  disfigurement  of  the  Lake  of  Zug, — 
KavOdpov  — over  some  leagues  square,  and  to  the 

close  of  the  cockchafer  democracy  for  that  year.  Then, 
for  tyranny,  the  old  fable  of  the  frogs  and  the  stork  finely 
touches  one  form  of  it ; but  truth  will  image  it  more 
closely  than  fable,  for  tyranny  is  not  complete  when  it  is 
only  over  the  idle,  but  when  it  is  over  the  laborious  and 
the  blind.  This  description  of  pelicans  and  climbing 
perch,  which  I find  quoted  in  one  of  our  popular  natural 
histories,  out  of  Sir  Emerson  Tennant’s  Ceylon,  comes  as 
near  as  may  be  to  the  true  image  of  the  thing 

Heavy  rains  came  on,  and  as  we  stood  on  the  high 
ground,  we  observed  a pelican  on  the  margin  of  the  shal- 
low pool  gorging  himself ; our  people  went  towards  him, 
and  raised  a cry  of  ‘ Fish,  fish!’  We  hurried  down,  and 
found  numbers  of  fish  struggling  upward  through  the 
grass,  in  the  rills  formed  by  the  trickling  of  the  rain. 
There  was  scarcely  water  to  cover  them,  but  nevertheless 

words  in  these  essays,  take  your  dictionary,  remembering  I had  to  fix 
terms,  as  well  as  principles.  A Duke  is  a “dux”  or  “leader;”  the 
flying  wedge  of  cranes  is  under  a “ ducal  monarch  ” — a very  different 
personage  from  a queen-bee.  The  Venetians,  with  a beautiful  instinct, 
gave  the  name  to  their  King  of  the  Sea.] 


MUNERA  PULVEEie. 


119 


they  made  rapid  progress  up  the  bank,  on  which  our  fol- 
lowers collected  about  two  baskets  of  them.  They  were 
forcing  their  way  up  the  knoll,  and  had  they  not  been 
interrupted,  first  by  the  pelican,  and  afterwards  by  our- 
selves, they  would  in  a few  minutes  have  gained  tliQ 
highest  point,  and  descended  on  the  other  side  into  a pool 
which  formed  another  portion  of  the  tank.  In  going  this 
distance,  however,  they  must  have  used  muscular  exertion 
enough  to  have  taken  them  half  a mile  on  level  ground ; 
for  at  these  places  all  the  cattle  and  wild  animals  of  the 
neighbourhood  had  latterly  come  to  drink,  so  that  the  sur- 
face was  everywhere  indented  with  footmarks,  in  addition 
to  the  cracks  in  the  surrounding  baked  mud,  into  which 
the  fish  tumbled  in  their  progress.  In  those  holes,  which 
were  deep,  and  the  sides  perpendicular,  they  remained  to 
die,  and  were  carried  off  by  kites  and  croAvs.”  * 

127.  But  whether  governments  be  bad  or  good,  one 
general  disadvantage  seems  to  attach  to  them  in  modern 
times — that  they  are  all  costly. \ This,  however,  is  not 
essentially  the  fault  of  the  governments.  If  nations 
choose  to  play  at  war,  they  will  always  find  their  govern- 
ments willing  to  lead  the  game,  and  soon  coming  under 
that  term  of  Aristophanes,  KdirrfKoc  a<77rtSa)i/,”  “ shield- 

[*  This  is  a perfect  picture  of  the  French  under  the  tyrannies  of 
their  Pelican  Kings,  before  the  Eevolution.  But  they  must  find  other 
than  Pelican  Kings — or  rather,  Pelican  Kings  of  the  Divine  brood,  that 
feed  their  children,  and  with  their  best  blood.] 

[f  Read  carefully,  from  this  point ; because  here  begins  the  statement 
of  things  requiring  to  be  done,  which  I am  now  re-trying  to  make 
definite  in  Fors  Clavigera.] 


120 


MUNEKA  PTJLVEEIS. 


sellers.”  And  when  eVt  irruxaTi,  *)  the  shields  take 

the  form  of  iron  ships,  with  apparatus  “ for  defence 
against  liquid  fire,” — as  I see  by  latest  accounts  they  are 
now  arranging  the  decks  in  English  dockyards — they 
become  costly  biers  enough  for  the  grey  convoy  of  chief- 
mourner  waves,  wreathed  with  funereal  foam,  to  bear  back 
the  dead  upon;  the  massy  shoulders  of  those  corpse- 
bearers  being  intended  for  quite  other  work,  and  to  bear 
the  living,  and  food  for  the  living,  if  we  would  let  them. 

128.  Nor  have  we  the  least  right  to  complain  of  our  gov- 
ernments being  expensive,  so  long  as  we  set  the  government 
to  do  jorecisel^  the  worlc  which  brings  no  return.  If  our 
present  doctrines  of  political  economy  be  just,  let  ns  trust 
them  to  the  utmost ; take  that  war  business  out  of  the 
government’s  hands,  and  test  therein  the  principles  of 
supply  and  demand.  Let  our  future  sieges  of  Sebastopol 
be  done  by  contract — no  capture,  no  pay — (I  admit  that 
things  might  sometimes  go  better  so) ; and  let  us  sell  the 
commands  of  our  prospective  battles,  with  our  vicarages, 
to  the  lowest  bidder ; so  may  we  have  cheap  victories,  and 
■divinity.  On  the  other  hand,  if  we  have  so  much  suspi- 
cion of  our  science  that  we  dare  not  trust  it  on  military 
or  spiritual  business,  would  it  not  be  but  reasonable  to  try 
whether  some  authoritative  handling  may  not  prosper  in 
matters  utilitarian  % If  we  were  to  set  our  governments 
to  do  useful  tilings  instead  of  mischievous,  possibly  even 

[*  “ Evil  on  the  top  of  Evil.”  Delphic  oracle,  meaning  iron  on  the 
anviL] 


MUNEEA  rULVERIS. 


121 


the  apparatus  itself  might  in  time  come  to  be  less  costly. 
The  machine,  applied  to  the  building  of  the  house,  might 
perhaps  pay,  when  it  seems  not  to  pay,  applied  to  pulling 
it  down.  If  we  made  in  our  dockyards  ships  to  cany 
timber  and  (toals,  instead  of  cannon,  and  with  provision 
for  the  brightening  of  domestic  solid  culinary  fire,  in- 
stead of  for  the  scattering  of  liquid  hostile  fii’e,  it 
might  have  some  effect  on  the  taxes.  Or  suppose  that  we 
tried  the  experiment  on  land  instead  of  water  carriage ; 
already  the  government,  not  unapproved,  carries  letters 
and  parcels  for  us ; larger  packages  may  in  time  follow ; 
— even  general  merchandise — why  not,  at  last,  ourselves  ? 
Had  the  money  spent  in  local  mistakes  and  vain  private 
litigation,  on  the  railroads  of  England,  been  laid  out, 
instead,  under  proper  government  restraint,  on  really 
useful  railroad  work,  and  had  no  absurd  expense  been 
incurred  in  ornamenting  stations,  we  might  already  have 
had, — what  ultimately  it  will  be  found  we  must  have, — 
quadruple  rails,  two  for  passengers,  and  two  for  traffic,  on 
every  great  line  ; and  we  might  have  been  carried  in  swift 
safety,  and  watched  and  warded  by  well-paid  pointsmen, 
for  half  the  present  fares.  [For,  of  course,  a railroad 
company  is  merely  an  association  of  turnpike-keepers,  who 
make  the  tolls  as  high  as  they  can,  not  to  mend  the  roads 
with,  but  to  pocket.  The  public  will  in  time  discover 
this,  and  do  away  with  turnpikes  on  railroads,  as  on  all 
other  public-ways.] 

129.  Suppose  it  should  thus  turn  out,  finally,  that  a true 
6 


122 


MUNEKA  PULVEKIS. 


government  set  to  true  work,  instead  of  being  a costly 
engine,  was  a paying  one  ? that  your  government,  rightly 
organized,  instead  of  itself  subsisting  by  an  income-tax, 
would  produce  its  subjects  some  subsistence  in  the  shape 
of  an  income  dividend? — police,  and  judges  duly  paid 
besides,  only  with  less  work  than  the  state  at  present  pro- 
vides for  them. 

A true  government  set  to  true  work  ! — ^Xot  easily  to  be 
imagined,  still  less  obtained ; but  not  beyond  human  hope 
or  ingenuity.  Only  you  will  have  to  alter  your  election 
systems  somewhat,  first.  Not  by  universal  suffrage,  noi 
by  votes  purchasable  with  beer,  is  such  government  to  be 
had.  That  is  to  say,  not  by  universal  eqital  suffrage. 
Every  man  upwards  of  twenty,  who  had  been  convicted 
of  no  legal  crime,  should  have  his  say  in  this  matter ; but 
afterwards  a louder  voice,  as  he  grows  older,  and  approves 
himself  wiser.  If  he  has  one  vote  at  twenty,  he  should 
have  two  at  thirty,  four  at  forty,  ten  at  fifty.  For  every 
single  vote  which  he  has  with  an  income  of  a hundred  a 
year,  he  should  have  ten  with  an  income  of  a thousand, 
(provided  you  first  see  to  it  that  wealth  is,  as  nature  in- 
tended it  to  be,  the  reward  of  sagacity  and  industry — ^not 
of  good  luck  in  a scramble  or  a lottery).  For  every  single 
vote  which  he  had  as  subordinate  in  any  business,  he 
should  have  two  when  he  became  a master;  and  every 
office  and  authority  nationally  bestowed,  implying  trust- 
worthiness and  intellect,  should  have  its  known  proportion- 
al number  of  votes  attached  to  it.  But  into  the  detail  and 


MUNEKA  PULVERIS. 


123 


working  of  a true  system  in  these  matters  we  cannot  now 
enter ; we  are  concerned  as  yet  with  definitions  only,  and 
statements  of  first  principles,  which  will  be  established 
now  sufticiently  for  our  purposes  when  we  have  examined 
the  nature  of  that  form  of  government  last  on  the  list  in 
§ 105, — the  purely  Magistral,”  exciting  at  present  its 
full  share  of  public  notice,  under  its  ambiguous  title  of 
“ slavery.” 

130.  I have  not,  however,  been  able  to  ascertain  in 
definite  terms,  from  the  declaimers  against  slavery, 
what  they  understand  by  it.  If  they  mean  only  the  im- 
prisonment or  compulsion  of  one  person  by  another,  such 
imprisonment  or  compulsion  being  in  many  cases  highly 
expedient,  slavery,  so  defined,  would  be  no  evil  in  itself, 
but  only  in  its  abuse ; that  is,  when  men  are  slaves,  who 
should  not  be,  or  masters,  who  should  not  be,  or  even  the 
fittest  characters  for  either  state,  placed  in  it  under  condi- 
tions which  should  not  be.  It  is  not,  for  instance,  a ne- 
cessary condition  of  slavery,  nor  a desirable  one,  that 
parents  should  be  separated  from  children,  or  husbands 
from  wdves ; but  the  institution  of  war,  against  which 
people  declaim  with  less  violence,  effects  such  separations, 
'—not  unfrequently  in  a very  permanent  manner.  To 
press  a sailor,  seize  a white  youth  by  conscription  for  a 
soldier,  or  carry  off  a black  one  for  a labourer,  may  all  be 
riglit  acts,  or  all  wrong  ones,  according  to  needs  and  cir- 
cumstances. It  is  wTong  to  scourge  a man  unnecessarily. 
So  it  is  to  shoot  him.  Both  must  be  done  on  occasion ; 


124 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


and  it  is  better  and  kinder  to  flog  a man  to  his  work,  than 
to  leave  him  idle  till  he  robs,  and  flog  him  afterwards. 
The  essential  thing  for  all  creatures  is  to  be  made  to  do 
right ; how  they  are  made  to  do  it — by  pleasant  promises, 
or  hard  necessities,  pathetic  oratory,  or  the  whip — ^is  com- 
paratively immaterial.*  To  be  deceived  is  perhaps  as 
incomp  itible  with  human  dignity  as  to  be  whipped ; and 
1 suspect  the  last  method  to  be  not  the  worst,  for  the  help 
of  many  individuals.  The  Jewish  nation  throve  under  it, 
in  the  hand  of  a monarch  reputed  not  unwise ; it  is  only 
the  change  of  whip  for  scorpion  which  is  inexpedient; 
and  that  change  is  as  likely  to  come  to  pass  on  the  side  of 
license  as  of  law.  For  the  true  scorpion  whips  are  those 
of  the  nation’s  pleasant  vices,  which  are  to  it  as  St.  John’s 
locusts — crown  on  the  head,  ravin  in  the  mouth,  and  sting 
in  the  tail.  If  it  will  not  bear  the  rule  of  Athena  and 
Apollo,  who  shepherd  without  smiting  (ou  TrXrjyfj  vifjLovTef}), 
Athena  at  last  calls  no  more  in  the  corners  of  the  streets ; 
and  then  follows  the  rule  of  Tisiphone,  who  smites  with- 
out shepherding. 

131.  If,  however,  by  slavery,  instead  of  absolute  com- 
pulsion, is  meant  the  purchase,  hy  money ^ of  the  right  of 
compulsion^  such  purchase  is  necessarily  made  whenever 
a portion  of  any  territory  is  transferred,  for  money,  from 
one  monarch  to  another : which  has  happened  frequently 

[*  Permit  me  to  enforce  and  reinforce  this  statement,  with  all  ear- 
nestness. It  is  the  sum  of  what  needs  most  to  be  understood  in  the 
matter  of  education.] 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


125 


euough  in  history,  without  its  being  supposed  that  the  in- 
habitants of  the  districts  so  transferred  became  therefore 
slaves.  In  this,  as  in  the  former  case,  the  dispute  seems 
about  the  fashion  of  the  thing,  rather  than  the  fact  of  it. 
There  are  two  rocks  in  mid-sea,  on  each  of  which,  neg- 
lected equally  by  instructive  and  commercial  powers,  a 
handful  of  inhabitants  live  as  they  may.  Two  merchants 
bid  for  the  two  properties,  but  not  in  the  same  terms.  One 
bids  for  the  people,  buys  ihem^  and  sets  them  to  work, 
under  pain  of  scourge ; the  other  bids  for  the  rock,  buys 
it^  and  throws  the  inhabitants  into  the  sea.  The  former  is 
the  American,  the  latter  the  English  method,  of  slavery ; 
much  is  to  be  said  for,  and  something  against,  both,  which 
I hope  to  say  in  due  time  and  place.* 

132.  If,  however,  slavery  mean  not  merely  the  purchase 
of  the  right  of  compulsion,  but  tJie  purchase  of  the  hody 
and  soul  of  the  creature  itself  for  money ^ it  is  not,  I 
think,  among  the  black  races  that  purchases  of  this  kind 
are  most  extensively  made,  or  that  separate  souls  of  a fine 
make  fetch  the  highest  price.  This  branch  of  the  inquiry 
we  shall  have  occasion  also  to  follow  out  at  some  length, 
for  in  the  worst  instances  of  the  selling  of  souls,  we  are 
apt  to  get,  when  we  ask  if  the  sale  is  valid,  only  Pyrrhon’s 
answer t — “None  can  know.” 

133.  The  fact  is  that  slavery  is  not  a political  institution 

[*  A pregnant  paragraph,  meant  against  English  and  Scotch  landlords 
who  drive  their  people  off  the  land  ] 

[f  In  Lucian's  dialogue,  “The  sale  of  hves.”] 


126 


MUNEEA  PULVERIS. 


at  all,  'but  an  inherent^  natural^  and  eternal  inheritance 
of  a large  portion  of  the  human  race — to  whom,  the  more 
you  give  of  their  own  free  will,  the  more  slaves  they  will 
make  themselves.  In  common  parlance,  we  idly  confuse 
captivity  with  slavery,  and  are  always  thinking  of  the  dif- 
ference between  pine-trunks  (Ariel  in  the  pine),  and  cow- 
slip-bells (“  in  the  cowslip-bell  I lie  ”),  or  between  carrying 
wood  and  drinking  (Caliban’s  slavery  and  freedom),  in- 
stead of  noting  the  far  more  serious  differences  between 
Ariel  and  Caliban  themselves,  and  the  means  by  which, 
practically,  that  difference  may  be  brought  about  or  di- 
minished. 

134.*  Plato’s  slave,  in  the  Polity\  who,  well  dressed 
and  washed,  aspires  to  the  hand  of  his  master’s  daughter, 
corresponds  curiously  to  Caliban  attacking  Prospero’s 
cell ; and  there  is  an  undercurrent  of  meaning  throughout, 
in  the  Terypest  as  well  as  in  the  Merchant  of  Venice^'  re- 
ferring in  this  case  to  government,  as  in  that  to  commerce. 
Miranda t (“the  wonderful,”  so  addressed  first  by  Perdi- 

[*  I raise  this  analysis  of  the  Tempest  into  my  text ; bnt  it  is  nothing 
but  a hurried  note,  which  I may  never  have  time  to  expand.  I have  re- 
touched it  here  and  there  a little,  however.] 

f Of  Shakspeare’s  names  I will  afterwards  speak  at  more  length ; 
they  are  curiously — often  barbarously — much  by  Providence, — but 
assuredly  not  without  Shakspeare’s  cunning  purpose — mixed  out  of 
the  various  traditions  he  confusedly  adopted,  and  languages  which  he 
imperfectly  knew.  Three  of  the  clearest  in  meaning  have  been  already 
noticed.  Desdemona,  “ (ha^aifiov'iap  “ miserable  fortune,”  is  also 
plain  enough.  Othello  is,  I believe,  “the  careful;”  all  the  calamity 
of  the  tragedy  arising  from  the  single  flaw  and  error  in  his  magnificently 
collected  strength.  Ophelia,  “ serviceableness,”  the  true  lost  wife  of 
Hamlet,  is  marked  as  having  a Greek  name  by  that  of  her  brother, 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


127 


naiid,  “ Oh,  you  wonder  ! ”)  corresponds  to  Homer’s  Arete : 
Ariel  and  Caliban  are  respectively  the  spirits  of  faithful 
and  imaginative  labour,  opposed  to  rebellious,  hurtful, 
and  slavish  labour.  Prospero  (“  for  hope  ”),  a true  gover- 
nor, is  opposed  to  Sycorax,  the  mother  of  slavery,  her 
name  “Swine-raven,”  indicating  at  once  brutality  and 
deathf  ulness ; hence  the  line — 

“ As  wicked  dew  as  e’er  my  motker  brushed,  with  ramn^ 8 feather^'' — &c. 

For  all  these  dreams  of  Shakspeare,  as  those  of  true  and 
strong  men  must  be,  are  “ (j>avTda/xaTa  Oela^  Kal  GKial  tojv 
ovrwv  ” — divine  phantasms,  and  shadows  of  things  that 
are.  We  hardly  tell  our  children,  willingly,  a fable  with 
no  purport  in  it ; yet  we  think  God  sends  his  best  messen- 
gers only  to  sing  fairy  tales  to  us,  fond  and  empty.  The 
Tempest  is  just  like  a grotesque  in  a rich  missal,  “clasped 
where  paynims  pray.”  Ariel  is  the  spirit  of  generous  and 
free-hearted  service,  in  early  stages  of  human  society  op- 
pressed by  ignorance  and  wild  tyranny  : venting  groans  as 
fast  as  mill-wheels  strike  ; in  shipwreck  of  states,  dreadful ; 

Laertes;  and  its  signification  is  once  exquisitely  alluded  to  in  that 
brother’s  last  word  of  her,  where  her  gentle  preciousness  is  opposed  to 
the  uselessness  of  the  churlish  clergy — “ A ministering  angel  shall  my 
sister  be,  when  thou  liest  howling.”  Hamlet  is,  I believe,  connected 
in  some  way  with  “ homely,”  the  entire  event  of  the  tragedy  turning  on 
betrayal  of  home  duty.  Hermione  {epga)^  “pillar-like”  (ij  eUog 
Xpvafjg  ' A(^po6irrjg) . Titania  “the  queen;”  Benedict  and 

Beatrice,  “ blessed  and  blessing;”  Valentine  and  Proteus,  enduring 
(or  strong),  (valens),  and  changeful.  lago  and  lachimo  have  evidently 
the  same  root — probably  the  Spanish  lago,  Jacob,  “the  supplanter.” 
Leonatus,  and  other  such  names,  are  interpreted,  or  played  with,  in  the 
plays  themselves.  Por  the  interpretation  of  Sycorax,  and  reference  to 
her  raven’s  feather,  I am  indebted  to  Mr.  John  R.  Wise. 


128 


MUNERA  PULVEEIS. 


SO  that  “ all  but  mariners  plunge  in  the  brine,  and  quit  the 
vessel,  then  all  afire  with  yet  having  in  itself  the  will 
and  sweetness  of  truest  peace,  whence  that  is  especially 
called  “Ariel’s”  song,  “ Come  unto  these  yellow  sands,  and 
there,  tahe  hands^^  “ courtesied  when  you  have,  and  kissed, 
the  wild  waves  whist : ” (mind,  it  is  “ cortesia,”  not  “ curt- 
sey,”) and  read  “ quiet  ” for  “ whist,”  if  you  want  the  full 
sense.  Then  you  may  indeed  foot  it  featly,  and  sweet 
spirits  bear  the  burden  for  you — -with  watch  in  the  night, 
and  call  in  early  morning.  The  vis  viva  in  elemental 
transformation  follows — “ Full  fathom  five  thy  father  lies, 
of  his  bones  are  coral  made.”  Then,  giving  rest  after 
labour,  it  “ fetches  dew  from  the  still  vext  Bermoothes, 
and,  with  a charm  joined  to  their  suffered  labour,  leaves 
men  asleep.”  Snatching  away  the  feast  of  the  cruel,  it 
seems  to  them  as  a harpy ; followed  by  the  utterly  vile,  who 
cannot  see  it  in  any  shape,  but  to  whom  it  is  the  picture 
of  nobody,  it  still  gives  shrill  harmony  to  their  false  and 
mocking  catch,  “ Thought  is  free ; ” but  leads  them  into 
briers  and  foul  places,  and  at  last  hollas  the  hounds  upon 
them.  Minister  of  fate  against  the  great  criminal,  it  joins 
itself  with  the  “ incensed  seas  and  shores  ” — the  sword  that 
layeth  at  it  cannot  hold,  and  may  “ with  bemoeked-at  stabs  as 
soon  kill  the  still-closing  waters,  as  diminish  one  dowle  that 
is  in  its  plume.”  As  the  guide  and  aid  of  true  love,  it  is 
always  called  by  Prospero  “ fine  ” (the  French  “ fine,”  not 
the  English),  or  “ delicate  ” — another  long  note  would  be 
needed  to  explain  all  the  meaning  in  this  word.  Lastly, 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


129 


its  work  done,  and  war,  it  resolves  itself  into  the  elements. 
The  intense  significance  of  the  last  song,  “ Where  the  bee 
sucks,”  I will  examine  in  its  due  place. 

The  types  of  slavery  in  Caliban  are  more  palpable,  and 
need  not  be  dwelt  on  now  : though  I will  notice  them  also, 
severally,  in  their  proper  places ; — the  heart  of  his  slavery 
is  in  his  worship : “ That’s  a brave  god,  and  bears  celes- 
tial— liquor.”  But,  in  illustration  of  the  sense  in  which 
the  Latin  ‘‘  benignus  ” and  “ malignus  ” are  to  be  coupled 
with  Eleutheria  and  Douleia,  note  that  Caliban’s  torment 
is  always  the  physical  refiection  of  his  own  nature-— 
“ cramps  ” and  “ side  stitches  that  shall  pen  thy  breath  up ; 
thou  shalt  be  pinched,  as  thick  as  honeycombs : ” the  whole 
nature  of  slavery  being  one  cramp  and  cretinous  contrac- 
tion. Fancy  this  of  Ariel ! You  may  fetter  him,  but  you 
set  no  mark  on  him ; you  may  put  him  to  hard  work  and 
far  journey,  but  you  cannot  give  him  a cramp. 

135.  I should  dwell,  even  in  these  prefatory  papers,  at 
more  length  on  this  subject  of  slavery,  had  not  all  I would 
say  been  said  already,  in  A^ain,  (not,  as  I hope,  ultimately  in 
vain),  by  Carlyle,  in  the  first  of  the  Latter-day  Pamphlets, 
which  I commend  to  the  reader’s  gravest  reading ; together 
Avith  that  as  much  neglected,  and  still  more  immedi- 
ately needed,  on  model  prisons,  and  with  the  great  chapter 
on  “ Permanence  ” (fifth  of  the  last  section  of  “ Past  and 
Present  ”),  which  sums  what  is  known,  and  foreshadows, 
or  rather  forelights,  all  that  is  to  be  learned  of  National 
Discipline.  I have  only  here  farther  to  examine  the  na- 
C* 


130 


MtJKERA  PTJLVERIS. 


tiire  of  one  world-wide  and  everlasting  form  of  slavery, 
wholesome  in  nse,  as  deadly  in  abuse the  service  of  the 
rich  by  the  poor. 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


131 


CHAPTER  yi. 

MASTERSHIP. 

136.  As  in  all  previous  discussions  of  our  subject,  we 
must  study  the  relation  of  the  commanding  rich  to  the 
obeying  poor  in  its  simplest  elements,  in  order  to  reach  its 
first  principles. 

The  simplest  state  of  it,  then,  is  this : * a wise  and  pro- 
vident person  works  much,  consumes  little,  and  lays  by  a 
Store ; an  improvident  person  works  little,  consumes  all  his 
produce,  and  lays  by  no  store.  Accident  interrupts  the 
daily  work,  or  renders  it  less  productive  ; the  idle  person 
must  then  starve,  or  be  supported  by  the  provident  one, 
who,  having  him  thus  at  his  mercy,  may  either  refuse  to 
maintain  him  altogether,  or,  which  will  evidently  be  more 
to  his  own  interest,  say  to  him,  “ I will  maintain  you,  in- 
deed, but  you  shafl  now  work  hard,  instead  of  indolently, 
and  instead  of  being  allowed  to  lay  by  what  you  save,  as 
you  might  have  done,  had  you  remained  independent,  I 
will  take  all  the  surplus.  You  would  not  lay  it  up  for 
youi'self  ; it  is  wholly  your  own  fault  that  has  thrown  you 

* In  the  present  general  examination  I concede  so  much  to  ordinary 
economists  as  to  ignore  all  innocent  poverty.  I adapt  my  reasoning, 
for  once,  to  the  modern  English  practical  mind,  by  assuming  poverty 
to  be  always  criminal ; the  conceivable  exceptions  we  will  examine 
afterwards. 


132 


MUNEEA  PULVEEIS. 


into  my  power,  and  I will  force  yon  to  work,  or  starve ; 
yet  yon  shall  have  no  profit  of  yonr  work,  only  yonr  daily 
bread  for  it ; [and  competition  shall  determine  how  much 
of  that*].”  This  mode  of  treatment  has  now  become  so 
nniversal  that  it  is  supposed  to  be  the  only  natural — nay, 
the  only  possible  one ; and  the  market  wages  are  calmly 
defined  by  economists  as  “ the  sum  which  will  maintain 
the  labourer.” 

137.  The  power  of  the  provident  person  to  do  this  is 
only  checked  by  the  correlative  power  of  some  neighbour 
of  similarly  frugal  habits,  who  says  to  the  labourer— “ I 
will  give  you  a little  more  than  this  other  provident  per- 
son : come  and  work  for  me.” 

The  power  of  the  provident  over  the  improvident  de- 
pends thus,  primarily,  on  their  relative  numbers ; seconda- 
rily, on  the  modes  of  agreement  of  the  adverse  parties  with 
each  other.  The  accidental  level  of  wages  is  a variable 
function  of  the  number  of  provident  and  idle  persons  in 
the  world,  of  the  enmity  between  them  as  classes,  and  of 
the  agreement  between  those  of  the  same  class.  It  de- 
2>ends,  from  heginning  to  end^  on  moral  conditions. 

138.  Supposing  the  rich  to  be  entirely  selfish,  it  is  ad- 
ways  for  their  interest  that  the  jyoor  should  he  as  numer- 
ous as  they  can  employ^  and  restrain.  For,  granting  that 
the  entire  population  is  no  larger  than  the  ground  can 

[*  I have  no  terms  of  English,  and  can  find  none  in  Greek  nor  Latin, 
nor  in  any  other  strong  language  known  to  me,  contemptuous  enough 
to  attach  to  the  bestial  idiotism  of  the  modem  theory  that  wages  are  to 
be  measured  by  competition.] 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


easily  maintain — that  the  classes  are  stringently  divided — 
and  that  there  is  sense  or  strength  of  hand  enough  with 
the  rich  to  secure  obedience;  then,  if  nine-tenths  of  a 
nation  are  poor,  the  remaining  tenth  have  the  service  of 
nine  persons  each ; but,  if  eight-tenths  are  poor,  only  of 
four  each ; if  seven-tenths  are  poor,  of  two  and  a third 
each ; if  six-tenths  are  poor,  of  one  and  a half  each ; and 
if  five-tenths  are  poor,  of  only  one  each.  But,  practically, 
if  the  rich  strive  always  to  obtain  more  power  over  the' 
poor,  instead  of  to  raise  them — and  if,  on  the  other  hand,, 
the  poor  become  continually  more  vicious  and  numerous, 
through  neglect  and  oppression, — though  the  range  of  the 
power  of  the  rich  increases,  its  tenure  becomes  less  secure ; 
until,  at  last,  the  measure  of  iniquity  being  full,  revolu- 
tion, civil  war,  or  the  subjection  of  the  state  to  a healthier 
or  stronger  one,  closes  the  moral  corruption,  and  industrial 
disease.f 

139.  It  is  rarely,  however,  that  things  come  to  this 
extremity.  Kind  persons  among  the  rich,  and  wise 
among  the  poor,  modify  the  connexion  of  the  classes : the 
efforts  made  to  raise  and  relieve  on  the  one  side,  and  the 


* I say  nothing  yet  of  the  quality  of  the  servants,  which,  neverthe- 
less, is  the  gist  of  the  business.  Will  you  have  Paul  Veronese  to  paint 
your  ceiling,  or  the  plumber  from  over  the  way  ? Both  will  work  for 
the  same  money ; Paul,  if  anything,  a little  the  cheaper  of  the  two,  if 
you  keep  him  in  good  humour ; only  you  have  to  discern  him  first,  which; 
will  need  eyes. 

[f  I have  not  altered  a syllable  in  these  three  paragraphs,  137,  138, 
139,  on  revision ; but  have  much  italicised : the  principles  stated  being 
as  vital,  as  they  are  little  known.] 


134 


MUNEEA  PTJLVERIS. 


success  of  honest  toil  on  the  other,  hind  and  blend  the 
orders  of  society  into  the  confused  tissue  of  half -felt  obli- 
gation, sullenly-rendered  obedience,  and  variously-directed, 
or  mis-directed,  toil,  which  form  the  w^arp  of  daily  life. 
But  this  great  law  rules  all  the  wild  design : that  success 
(while  society  is  guided  by  laws  of  competition)  signifies 
always  so  rmich  victory  over  your  neighbour  as  to  obtain 
the  direction  of  his  work,  and  to  take  the  profits  of  it. 
This  is  the  real  source  of  all  great  riches.  Xo  man  can 
become  largely  rich  by  his  personal  toil.*  The  work  of 
his  own  hands,  wisely  directed,  will  indeed  always  main- 
tain himself  and  his  family,  and  make  fitting  pro\’ision 
for  his  age.  B%it  it  is  only  by  the  discovery  of  some 
methods  of  taxing  the  labour  of  others  that  he  can  become 
ojyulent.  Every  increase  of  his  capital  enables  him  to 
extend  this  taxation  more  widely ; that  is,  to  invest  largei- 
funds  in  the  maintenance  of  labourers, — to  direct,  accord- 
ingly, vaster  and  yet  vaster  masses  of  labour,  and  to 
appropriate  its  profits. 

140.  There  is  much  confusion  of  idea  on  the  subject  of 
this  appropriation.  It  is,  of  course,  the  interest  of  the 
employer  to  disguise  it  from  the  persons  employed ; and, 
for  his  own  comfort  and  complacency,  he  often  desires  no 
less  to  disguise  it  from  himself.  And  it  is  matter  of  much 
doubt  with  me,  how  far  the  foul  and  foolish  arguments 

* By  liis  art  lie  may;  but  only  when  its  produce,  or  the  sight  or 
hearing  of  it,  becomes  a subject  of  dispute,  so  as  to  enable  the  artist  to 
tax  the  labour  of  multitudes  highly,  in  exchange  for  his  own. 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


135 


used  liabitnally  on  this  subject  are  indeed  tlie  honest 
expression  of  foul  and  foolish  convictions ; — or  rather  (as 
I am  sometimes  forced  to  conclude  from  the  irritation 
with  which  they  are  advanced)  are  resolutely  dishonest, 
wilful,  and  malicious  sophisms,  arranged  so  as  to  mask, 
to  the  last  moment,  the  real  laws  of  economy,  and  future 
duties  of  men.  By  taking  a simple  example,  and  working 
it  thoroughly  out,  the  subject  may  be  rescued  from  all  but 
such  detemiined  misrepresentation. 

141.  Let  us  imagine  a society  of  peasants,  living  on  a 
river-shore,  exposed  to  destructive  inundation  at  somewhat 
extended  intervals ; and  that  each  peasant  possesses  of  this 
good,  but  imperilled,  ground,  more  than  he  needs  to  culti- 
vate for  immediate  subsistence.  We  will  assume  farther 
(and  with  too  great  probability  of  justice),  that  the  greater 
part  of  them  indolently  keep  in  tillage  just  as  much  land 
as  supplies  them  with  daily  food ; — that  they  leave  their 
children  idle,  and  take  no  precautions  against  the  rise  of 
the  stream.  But  one  of  them,  (we  will  say  but  one,  for 
the  sake  of  greater  clearness)  cultivates  carefully  all  the 
ground  of  his  estate ; makes  his  children  work  hard  and 
healthily ; uses  his  spare  time  and  theirs  in  building  a 
rampart  against  the  river ; and,  at  the  end  of  some  years, 
has  in  his  storehouses  large  reserves  of  food  and  clothing, 
— in  his  stables  a well-tended  breed  of  cattle,  and  aronnd 
his  fields  a wedge  of  wall  against  flood. 

The  torrent  rises  at  last — sweeps  away  the  harvests,  and 
half  the  cottages  of  the  careless  peasants,  and  leaves  them 


136 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


destitute.  They  naturally  come  for  help  to  the  provident 
one,  whose  fields  are  unwasted,  and  whose  granaries  are 
full.  He  has  the  right  to  refuse  it  to  them : no  one  dis- 
putes this  right.*  But  he  will  probably  Tiot  refuse  it  5 it 
is  not  his  interest  to  do  so,  even  were  he  entirely  selfish 
and  cruel.  The  only  question  with  him  will  be  on  what 
terms  his  aid  is  to  be  granted. 

/142.  Clearly,  not  on  terms  of  mere  charity.  To  main- 
/tain  his  neighbours  in  idleness  would  be  not  only  his  ruin, 

/ but  theirs.  He  will  require  work  from  them,  in  exchange 
/ for  their  maintenance  ; and,  whether  in  kindness  or  cruel- 
ty, all  the  work  they  can  give.  Hot  now  the  three  or  four 
hours  they  were  wont  to  spend  on  their  own  land,  but  the 
eight  or  ten  hours  they  ought  to  have  spent.f  But  how 
will  he  apply  this  labour  ? The  men  are  now  his  slaves ; 

^nothing  less,  and  nothing  more.  On  pain  of  starvation, 

he  can  force  them  to  work  in  the  manner,  and  to  the  end, 
he  chooses.  And  it  is  by  his  wisdom  in  this  choice  that 
the  worthiness  of  his  mastership  is  proved,  or  its  unworthi- 
hess.  Evidently,  he  must  first  set  them  to  bank  out  the 
water  in  some  temporary  way,  and  to  get  their  ground 
cleansed  and  resown;  else,  in  any  case,  their  continued 
maintenance  will  be  impossible.  That  done,  and  while 
he  has  still  to  feed  them,  suppose  he  makes  them  raise  a 

[*  Observe  this ; the  legal  right  to  keep  what  you  have  worked  for, 
and  use  it  as  you  please,  is  the  corner-stone  of  all  economy  : compare 
the  end  of  Chap.  II.] 

[f  I should  now  put  the  time  of  necessary  labour  rather  under  than 
over  the  third  of  the  day.] 


MUNERA  rULVERIS. 


137 


secure  rampart  for  their  own  ground  against  all  future 
hood,  and  rebuild  their  houses  in  safer  places,  with  the 
best  material  they  can  iind;  being  allowed  time  out  of 
their  working  hours  to  fetch  such  material  from  a distance. 
And  for  the  food  and  clothing  advanced,  he  takes  security 
in  land  that  as  much  shall  be  returned  at  a convenient 
period. 

143.  We  may  conceive  this  security  to  be  redeemed, 
and  the  debt  paid  at  the  end  of  a few  years.  The  pru- 
dent peasant  has  sustained  no  loss  ; is  no  richer  than 
he  was,  and  has  had  all  his  trouble  for  nothing.  But  he 
has  enriched  his  neighbours  materially ; bettered  their 
houses,  secured  their  land,  and  rendered  them,  in  worldly 
matters,  equal  to  himself.  In  all  rational  and  final  sense, 
lie  has  been  throughout  their  true  Lord  and  King. 

144.  We  will  next  trace  his  probable  line  of  conduct, 
presuming  his  object  to  be  exclusively  the  increase  of  his 
own  fortune.  After  roughly  recovering  and  cleansing 
the  ground,  he  allows  the  ruined  peasantry  only  to  build 
huts  upon  it,  such  as  he  thinks  protective  enough  from 
the  weather  to  keep  them  in  working  health.  The  rest  of 
their  time  he  occupies,  first  in  pulling  down,  and  rebuild- 
ing on  a magnificent  scale,  his  own  house,  and  in  adding 
large  dependencies  to  it.  This  done,  in  exchange  for  his 
continued  supply  of  corn,  he  buys  as  much  of  his  neigh- 
bours’ land  as  he  thinks  he  can  superintend  the  manage- 
ment of ; and  makes  the  former  owners  securely  embank 
and  protect  the  ceded  portion.  By  this  arrangement,  he 


138 


MUNEKA  PULVEKIS. 


leaves  to  a certain  number  of  the  peasantry  only  as  much 
ground  as  will  just  maintain  them  in  their  existing  num- 
bers ; as  the  population  increases,  he  takes  the  extra 
hands,  who  cannot  be  maintained  on  the  narrowed  estates, 
for  his  own  servants;  employs  some  to  cultivate  the 
ground  he  has  bought,  giving  them  of  its  produce  merely 
enough  for  subsistence ; mth  the  surplus,  which,  under 
his  energetic  and  careful  superintendence,  will  be  large, 
he  maintains  a train  of  servants  for  state,  and  a body  of 
workmen,  whom  he  educates  in  ornamental  arts.  He  now 
can  splendidly  decorate  his  house,  lay  out  its  grounds 
magnificently,  and  richly  supply  his  table,  and  that  of  his 
household  and  retinue.  And  thus,  without  any  abuse  of 
right,  we  should  find  established  all  the  phenomena  of 
poverty  and  riches,  which'  (it  is  supposed  ilecessarily) 
accompany  modern  civilization.  In  one  part  of  the  dis- 
trict, we  should  have  unhealthy  land,  miserable  dwellings, 
and  half -starved  poor ; in  another,  a well-ordered  estate, 
well-fed  servants,  and  refined  conditions  of  highly-edu- 
cated and  luxurious  life. 

145.  I have  put  the  two  cases  in  simplicity,  and  to  some 
extremity.  But  though  in  more  complex  and  qualified 
operation,  all  the  relations  of  society  are  but  the  expansion 
of  these  two  typical  sequences  of  conduct  and  result.  I 
do  not  say,  observe,  that  the  first  procedure  is  entirely 
recommendable  ; or  even  entirely  right ; still  less,  that  the 
second  is  wholly  wrong.  Servants,  and  artists,  and  splen- 
dour of  habitation  and  retinue,  have  all  their  use,  pro- 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


139 


priety,  and  office.  But  I am  determined  that  the  reader 
shall  understand  clearly  what  they  cost ; and  see  that  the 
condition  of  having  them  is  the  subjection  to  us  of  a 
certain  number  of  imprudent  or  unfortunate  persons  (or, 
it  may  be,  more  fortunate  than  their  masters),  over  whose 
destinies  we  exercise  a boundless  control.  “Riches”  mean 
eternally  and  essentially  this;  and  God  send  at  last  a 
time  when  those  wmds  of  our  best-reputed  economist 
shall  be  true,  and  we  shall  indeed  “ all  know  what  it  is  to 
be  rich ; that  it  is  to  be  slave-master  over  farthest  earth, 
and  over  all  ways  and  thoughts  of  men.  Every  operative 
you  employ  is  your  true  servant:  distant  or  near,  subject 
to  your  immediate  orders,  or  ministering  to  your  widely- 
communicated  caprice, — for  the  pay  he  stipulates,  or  the 
price  he  tempts, — all  are  alike  under  this  great  dominion 
of  the  gold.  The  milliner  wdio  makes  the  dress  is  as 
much  a servant  (more  so,  in  that  she  uses  more  intelli- 
gence in  the  service)  as  the  maid  who  puts  it  on ; the 
carpenter  who  smooths  the  door,  as  the  footman  who 
opens  it;  the  tradesmen  who  supply  the  table,  as  the 
labourers  and  sailors  who  supply  the  tradesmen.  Why 
speak  of  these  lower  services?  Painters  and  singers 
^(whether  of  note  or  rhyme,)  jesters  and  story-tellers, 
moralists,  historians,  priests, — so  far  as  these,  in  any  de- 
gree, paint,  or  sing,  or  tell  their  tale,  or  charm  their 
charm,  or  “perform”  their  viiQ^for  jpay^ — in  so  far,  they 
are  all  slaves;  abject  utterly,  if  the  service  be  for  pay 


[*  See  Preface  to  Unto  this  Last.\ 


140 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


only ; abject  less  and  less  in  proportion  to  the  degrees  of 
love  and  of  wisdom  which  enter  into  their  duty,  or  can 
enter  into  it,  according  as  their  function  is  to  do  the  bid- 
ding and  the  work  of  a manly  people; — or  to  amuse, 
tempt,  and  deceive,  a childish  one. 

146.  There  is  always,  in  such  amusement  and  tempta- 
tion, to  a certain  extent,  a government  of  the  rich  by  the 

^oor,  as  of  the  poor  by  the  rich;  but  the  latter  is  the 
prevailing  and  necessary  one,  and  it  consists,  when  it  is 
lionourable,  in  the  collection  of  the  profits  of  labour  from 
those  who  would  have  misused  them,  and  the  administra- 
tion of  those  profits  for  the  service  either  of  the  same 
persons  in  future,  or  of  others  ; and  when  it  is  dishonour- 

Nable;^  as  is  more  frequently  the  case  in  modern  times,  it 
consists  in  the  collection  of  the  profits  of  labour  from 
those  who  would  have  rightly  used  them,  and  their  appro- 
priation to  the  service  of  the  collector  himself. 

147.  The  examination  of  these  various  modes  of  collec- 
tion and  use  of  riches  will  form  the  third  branch  of  our 
future  inquiries;  but  the  key  to  the  whole  subject  lies  in 
the  clear  understanding  of  the  difference  between  selfish 
and  unselfish  expenditure.  It  is  not  easy,  by  any  course 
of  reasoning,  to  enforce  this  on  the  generally  unwilling 
hearer  ; yet  the  definition  of  unselfish  expenditure  is  brief 
and  simple.  It  is  expenditure  which,  if  you  are  a capital- 
ist, does  not  pay  you^  but  pays  somebody  else ; and  if  you 
are  a consumer,  does  not  please  you^  but  pleases  somebody 
else.  Take  one  special  instance,  in  further  illustration  of 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


141 


the  general  type  given  above.  I did  not  invent  that  type, 
but  spoke  of  a real  river,  and  of  real  peasantry,  the 
languid  and  sickly  race  which  inhabits,  or  haunts — for 
they  are  often  more  like  spectres  than  living  men — the 
tliorny  desolation  of  the  banks  of  the  Arve  in  Savoy. 
Some  years  ago,  a society,  formed  at  Geneva,  offered  to 
embank  the  river  for  the  ground  which  would  have  been 
recovered  by  the  operation ; but  the  offer  was  refused  by 
the  (then  Sardinian)  government.  The  capitalists  saw 
that  this  expenditure  would  have  “ paid  ” if  the  ground 
saved  from  the  river  was  to  be  theirs.  But  if,  when  the 
offer  that  had  this  aspect  of  profit  was  refused,  they  had 
nevertheless  persisted  in  the  plan,  and  merely  taking 
security  for  the  return  of  their  outlay,  lent  the  funds  for 
the  work,  and  thus  saved  a whole  race  of  human  souls 
from  perishing  in  a pestiferous  fen  (as,  I presume,  some 
among  them  would,  at  personal  risk,  have  dragged  any  one 
drowning  creature  out  of  the  current  of  the  stream,  and 
not  expected  payment  therefor),  such  expenditure  vrould 
have  precisely  corresponded  to  the  use  of  liis  power  made, 
in  the  first  instance,  by  our  supposed  richer  peasant — it 
would  have  been  the  king’s,  of  grace,  instead  of  the 
usurer’s,  for  gain. 

148.  “ Impossible,  absurd,  Utopian ! ” exclaim  nine- 
tenths  of  the  few  readers  whom  these  words  may  find. 

Uo,  good  reader,  this  is  not  Utopian:  but  I will  tell 
you  what  would  have  seemed,  if  we  had  not  seen  it, 
Utopian  on  the  side  of  evil  instead  of  good;  that  ever 


142 


MUNEEA  PULVEEIS. 


men  should  have  come  to  value  their  money  so  much 
more  than  their  lives,  that  if  you  call  upon  them  to 
become  soldiers,  and  take  chance  of  a bullet  through  their 
heart,  and  of  wife  and  children  being  left  desolate,  for 
their  pride’s  sake,  they  will  do  it  gaily,  without  thinking 
twice;  but  if  you  ask  them,  for  their  country’s  sake,  to 
spend  a hundred  pounds  without  security  of  getting  back 
a hundred-and-five,*  they  will  laugh  in  your  face. 

149.  I^ot  but  that  also  this  game  of  life-giving  and 
taking  is,  in  the  end,  somewhat  more  costly  than  other 
forms  of  play  might  be.  Rifle  practice  is,  indeed,  a not 
unhealthy  pastime,  and  a feather  on  the  top  of  the  head  is 
a pleasing  appendage ; but  while  learning  the  stops  and 
Angering  of  the  sweet  instrument,  does  no  one  ever  calcin 

* I have  not  hitherto  touched  on  the  subject  of  interest  of  money ; 
it  is  too  complex,  and  must  be  reserved  for  its  proper  place  in  the  body 
of  the  work.  The  definition  of  interest  (apart  from  compensation  for 
risk)  is,  “ the  exponent  of  the  comfort  of  accomplished  labour,  sepa- 
rated from  its  power ; ” the  power  being  what  is  lent : and  the  French 
economists  who  have  maintained  the  entire  illegality  of  interest  are 
wrong ; yet  by  no  means  so  curiously  or  wildly  wrong  as  the  English 
and  French  ones  opposed  to  them,  whose  opinions  have  been  collected 
by  Dr.  Whewell  at  page  41  of  his  Lectures ; it  never  seeming  to  occur 
to  the  mind  of  the  compiler,  any  more  than  to  the  writers  whom 
he  quotes,  that  it  is  quite  possible,  and  even  (according  to  Jewish 
proverb)  prudent,  for  men  to  hoard  as  ants  and  mice  do,  for  use,  not 
usury ; and  lay  by  something  for  winter  nights,  in  the  expectation  of 
rather  sharing  than  lending  the  scrapings.  My  Savoyard  squirrels  would 
pass  a pleasant  time  of  it  under  the  snow-laden  pine-branches,  if  they 
always  declined  to  economize  because  no  one  would  pay  them  interest 
on  nuts. 

[I  leave  this  note  as  it  stood : but,  as  I have  above  stated,  should 
now  side  wholly  with  the  French  economists  spoken  of,  in  asserting  the 
absolute  illegality  of  interest.] 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


143 


late  the  cost  of  an  overture  ? What  melody  does  Tityrus 
meditate  on  his  tenderly  spiral  pipe  ? The  leaden  seed  of 
it,  broad-cast,  true  conical  “ Dents  de  Lion  ” seed  —need- 
ing less  allowance  for  the  wind  than  is  usual  with  that  kind 
of  herb — what  crop  are  you  likely  to  have  of  it  % Sup- 
pose, instead  of  this  volunteer  marching  and  countermarch- 
ing,  you  were  to  do  a little  volunteer  ploughing  and  counter- 
ploughing  % It  is  more  difficult  to  do  it  straight : the  dust 
of  the  earth,  so  disturbed,  is  more  grateful  than  for  merely 
rhythmic  footsteps.  Golden  cups,  also,  given  for  good 
ploughing,  would  be  more  suitable  in  colour : (ruby  glass, 
for  the  wine  which  “ giveth  his  colour  ” on  the  ground, 
might  be  fitter  for  the  rifie  prize  in  ladies’  hands).  Or, 
conceive  a little  volunteer  exercise  with  the  spade,  other 
than  such  as  is  needed  for  moat  and  breastwork,  or  even 
for  the  burial  of  the  fruit  of  the  leaden  avena-seed,  sub- 
ject to  the  shrill  Lemiires’  criticism — • 

Wer  hat  das  Haus  so  schlecht  gebanet  ? 

If  you  were  to  embank  Lincolnshire  more  stoutly  against 
the  sea  % or  strip  the  peat  of  Solway,  or  plant  Plinlimmon 
moors  with  larch — then,  in  due  season,  some  amateur 
reaping  and  threshing  ? 

“ Nay,  we  reap  and  thresh  by  steam,  in  these  advanced 
days.” 

I know  it,  my  wise  and  economical  friends.  The  stout 
arms  God  gave  you  to  win  your  bread  by,  you  would  fain 


144 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


shoot  your  neighbours,  and  God’s  sweet  singers  with ; then 
you  invoke  the  fiends  to  your  farm-service  ; and — 

When  young  and  old  come  foiili  to  play 
On  a sulphurous  holiday. 

Tell  how  the  darkling  goblin  sweat 
(His  feast  of  cindere  duly  set), 

And,  belching  night,  where  breathed  the  mom. 

His  shadowy  flail  hath  threshed  the  corn 
That  ten  day-labourers  could  not  end. 

150.  Going  back  to  the  matter  in  hand,  we  will  press 
the  example  closer.  On  a green  knoll  above  that  plain  of 
the  Arve,  between  Cluse  and  Bonneville,  there  was,  in  the 
year  1860,  a cottage,  inhabited  by  a well-doing  family — 
man  and  wife,  three  childi’en,  and  the  grandmother.  I call 
it  a cottage,  but  in  truth,  it  was  a large  chimney  on  the 
ground,  wide  at  the  bottom,  so  that  the  family  might  live 
round  the  fire  ; lighted  by  one  small  broken  window,  and 
entered  by  an  unclosing  door.  The  family,  I say,  was 

* Compare  Chaucer’s  feeling  respecting  birds  (from  Canace’s  falcon, 
to  the  nightingale,  singing,  “ Domine,  labia — " to  the  Lord  of  Love) 
tvith  the  usual  modem  British  sentiments  on  this  subject.  Or  even 
Cowley’s ; — 

‘ ‘ What  prince’s  choir  of  music  can  excel 
That  which  within  this  shade  does  dwell. 

To  which  we  nothing  pay,  or  give, 

They,  like  all  other  poets,  live 

Without  reward,  or  thanks  for  their  obISging  pains  ! 

’Tis  well  if  they  become  not  prey.” 

Yes  ; it  is  better  than  well ; particularly  since  the  seed  sown  by  the 
wayside  has  been  protected  by  the  peculiar  appropriation  of  part  of 
the  church-rates  in  our  country  parishes.  See  the  remonstrance  from 


MUNERA  PULVEEIS. 


145 


“ well-doing ; ” at  least,  it  was  hopeful  and  cheerful ; the 
wife  healthy,  the  children,  for  Savoyards,  pretty  and 
active,  but  the  husband  threatened  with  decline,  from  ex- 
posure under  the  cliffs  of  the  Mont  Y ergi  by  day,  and  to 
draughts  between  every  plank  of  his  chimney  in  the  frosty 
nights. 

“ Why  could  he  not  plaster  the  chinks  ? ’’  asks  the  prac- 
tical reader.  For  the  same  reason  that  your  child  cannot 
wash  its  face  and  hands  till  you  have  washed  them  many 
a day  for  it,  and  will  not  wash  them  when  it  can,  till  you 
force  it. 

151.  I passed  this  cottage  often  in  my  walks,  had  its 
window  and  door  mended  ; sometimes  mended  also  a little 
the  meal  of  sour  bread  and  broth,  and  generally  got  kind 
greeting  and  smile  from  the  face  of  young  or  old  ; which 
greeting,  this  year,  narrowed  itself  into  the  half-recogniz- 
ing stare  of  the  elder  child,  and  the  old  woman’s  tears ; 
for  the  father  and  mother  were  both  dead, — one  of  sick- 
ness, the  other  of  sorrow.  It  happened  that  I passed  not 
alone,  but  with  a companion,  a practised  English  joiner, 

a “ Country  Parson,”  in  The  Times  of  June  4th  (or  5th ; the  letter  is 
dated  June  3rd,)  1862: — “I  have  heard  at  a vestry  meeting  a good 
deal  of  higgling  over  a few  shillings’  outlay  in  cleaning  the  church ; 
but  I have  never  heard  any  dissatisfaction  expressed  on  account  of 
that  part  of  the  rate  which  is  invested  in  50  or  100  dozens  of  birds’ 
heads.” 

[If  we  could  trace  the  innermost  of  all  causes  of  modem  war,  I 
believe  it  would  be  found,  not  in  the  avarice  nor  ambition  of  nations, 
but  in  the  mere  idleness  of  the  upper  classes.  They  have  nothing  to 
do  but  to  teach  the  peasantry  to  kill  each  other,] 

7 


146 


MUNERA  PL'LVERIS. 


who,  while  these  people  were  dying  of  cold,  had  been  em- 
ployed from  six  in  the  morning  to  six  in  the  evening,  for 
two  months,  in  fitting,  without  nails,  the  panels  of  a single 
door  in  a large  house  in  London.  Three  days  of  his  work 
taken,  at  the  right  time,  from  fastening  the  oak  panels  with 
useless  precision,  and  applied  to  fasten  the  larch  timbers 
"v^ith  decent  strength,  would  have  saved  these  Savoyards’ 
lives.  He  would  have  been  maintained  equally ; (I  sup- 
pose him  equally  paid  for  his  work  by  the  owner  of  the 
greater  house,  only  the  work  not  consumed  selfishly  on  his 
own  walls  ; ) and  the  two  peasants,  and  eventually,  probably 
their  children,  saved. 

152.  There  are,  therefore,— let  me  finally  enforce,  and 
leave  with  the  reader,  this  broad  conclusion,— three  things 
to  be  considered  in  employing  any  poor  person.  It  is  not 
enough  to  give  him  employment.  You  must  employ  him 
first  to  produce  useful  things ; seccmdly,  of  the  several 
(suppose  equally  useful)  things  he  can  equally  well  pro- 
duce, you  must  set  him  to  make  that  which  will  cause  him 
to  lead  the  healthiest  life  j lastly,  of  the  things  produced, 
it  remains  a question  of  wisdom  and  conscience  how  much 
you  are  to  take  yourself,  and  how  much  to  leave  to  others. 
A large  quantity,  remember,  unless  you  destroy  it,  rmist 
always  be  so  left  at  one  time  or  another ; the  only  ques- 
tions you  have  to  decide  are,  not  what  you  will  give,  but 
when^  and  how,  and  to  whom,  you  will  give.  The  natural 
law  of  human  life  is,  of  course,  that  in  youth  a man  shall 
labour  and  lay  by  store  for  his  old  age,  and  when  age 


Mt'NERA  PULVERIS. 


147 


comes,  shall  use  what  he  has  laid  by,  gradually  slackening 
his  toil,  and  allowing  himself  more  frank  use  of  his  store  ; 
taking  (3are  always  to  leave  himself  as  much  as  will  surely 
suffice  for  him  beyond  any  possible  length  of  life.  What 
he  has  gained,  or  by  tranquil  and  unanxious  toil  continues 
to  gain,  more  than  is  enough  for  his  own  need,  he  ought 
so  to  administer,  while  he  yet  lives,  as  to  see  the  good  of 
it  again  beginning,  in  other  hands ; for  thus  he  has  himself 
the  greatest  sum  of  pleasure  from  it,  and  faithfully  uses 
his  sagacity  in  its  control.  Whereas  most  men,  it  appears, 
dislike  the  sight  of  their  fortunes  going  out  into  service 
again,  and  say  to  themselves, — I can  indeed  nowise  pre- 
vent this  money  from  falling  at  last  into  the  hands  of 
others,  nor  hinder  the  good  of  it  from  becoming  theirs, 
not  mine  ; but  at  least  let  a merciful  death  save  me  from 
being  a witness  of  their  satisfaction ; and  may  God  so  far 
be  gracious  to  me  as  to  let,  no  good  come  of  any  of  this 
money  of  mine  before  my  eyes.” 

153.  Supposing  this  feeling  unconquerable,  the  safest 
way  of  rationally  indulging  it  would  be  for  the  capitalist 
at  once  to  spend  all  his  fortune  on  himself,  which  might 
actually,  in  many  cases,  be  quite  the  rightest  as  well  as  the 
pleasantest  thing  to  do,  if  he  had  just  tastes  and  worthy 
passions.  But,  whether  for  himself  only,  or  through  the 
hands,  and  for  the  sake,  of  others  also,  the  law  of  wise 
life  is,  that  the  maker  of  the  money  should  also  be  the 
spender  of  it,  and  spend  it,  approximately,  all,  before  he 
dies ; so  that  his  true  ambition  as  an  economist  should  be. 


148 


MIJNERA  PULVERIS. 


to  die,  not  as  rich,  bnt  as  poor,  as  possible,*  calculating 
the  ebb  tide  of  possession  in  true  and  calm  proportion  to 
the  ebb  tide  of  life.  Which  law,  checking  the  wing  of 
accumulative  desire  in  the  mid-vollej,f  and  leading  to 
peace  of  possession  and  fulness  of  fruition  in  old  age,  is 
also  wholesome,  in  that  by  the  freedom  of  gift,  together 
with  present  help  and  counsel,  it  at  once  endears  and 
dignifies  age  in  the  sight  of  youth,  which  then  no  longer 
strips  the  bodies  of  the  dead,  but  receives  the  grace  of  the 
living.  Its  chief  use  would  (or  will  be,  for  men  are 
indeed  capable  of  attaining  to  this  much  use  of  their 
reason),  that  some  temperance  and  measure  will  be  put  to 
the  acquisitiveness  of  commerce.:]:  For  as  things  stand,  a 

man  holds  it  his  duty  to  be  temperate  in  his  food,  and  of 
his  body,  but  for  no  duty  to  be  temperate  in  his  riches, 
and  of  his  mind.  He  sees  that  he  ought  not  to  waste  his 

[*  See  tlie  Life  of  Fenelon.  “ The  labouring-  peasantry  were  at  all 
times  the  objects  of  his  tenderest  care;  his  palace  at  Cambray,  with  all 
his  books  and  writings,  being  consumed  by  fire,  he  bore  the  misfortune 
with  unruffled  calmness,  and  said  it  was  better  his  palace  should  be 
burnt  than  the  cottage  of  a poor  peasant.”  (These  thoroughly  good 
men  always  go  too  far,  and  lose  their  power  over  the  mass.)  He  died 
exemplifying  the  mean  he  had  always  observed  between  prodigality  and 
avarice,  leaving  neither  debts  nor  money.] 

f KaX  Treviav  vjyovfievavs  elvai  rh  r)]v  ov<rlav  iXarra  iroiuv  aWa  rh  t^v 
aTrK'i](TTiav  irxdo).  “ And  thinking  (wisely)  that  poverty  consists  not  in 
making  one’s  possessions  less,  but  one’s  avarice  more.” — Laws,  v.  8. 
Head  the  context,  and  compare.  “ He  who  spends  for  all  that  is  noble, 
and  gains  by  nothing  but  what  is  just,  will  hardly  be  notably  wealthy, 
or  distressfully  poor.” — Laws^  v.  42. 

X The  fury  of  modern  trade  arises  chiefly  out  of  the  possibility  of 
making  sudden  fortunes  by  largeness  of  transaction,  and  accident  of 
discovery  or  contrivance.  I have  no  doubt  that  the  final  interest 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


140 


youth  and  his  flesh  for  luxury  ; but  he  will  waste  his  age, 
and  his  soul,  for  money,  and  think  he  does  no  wrong,  nor 
know  the  delirium  tremens  of  the  intellect  for  disease. 
But  the  law  of  life  is,  that  a man  should  flx  the  sum  he 
desires  to  make  annually,  as  the  food  he  desires  to  eat 
daily ; and  stay  when  he  has  reached  the  limit,  refusing 
increase  of  business,  and  leaving  it  to  others,  so  obtaining 
due  freedom  of  time  for  better  thoughts.'^'  How  the 
gluttony  of  business  is  punished,  a bill  of  health  for  the 
principals  of  the  richest  city  houses,  issued  annually, 
would  show  in  a sufliciently  impressive  manner. 

154.  I know,  of  course,  that  these  statements  will  be 
received  by  the  modern  merchant  as  an  active  border  rider 
of  the  sixteenth  century  would  have  heard  of  its  being 
proper  for  men  of  the  Marches  to  get  their  living  by  the 
spade,  instead  of  the  spur.  But  my  business  is  only  to 
state  veracities  and  necessities ; I neither  look  for  the 
acceptance  of  the  one,  nor  hope  for  the  nearness  of  the 
other.  Hear  or  distant,  the  day  will  assuredly  come  when 
the  merchants  of  a state  shall  be  its  true  ministers  of 
exchange,  its  porters,  in  the  double  sense  of  carriers  and 
gate-keepers,  bringing  all  lands  into  frank  and  faithful 

of  every  nation  is  to  check  the  action  of  these  commercial  lotteries;: 
and  that  all  great  accidental  gains  or  losses  should  be  national, — not 
individual.  But  speculation  absolute,  unconnected  with  commercial 
effort,  is  an  unmitigated  evil  in  a state,  and  the  root  of  countless  evils 
beside, 

[*  I desire  in  the  strongest  terms  to  reinforce  all  that  is  contained  in 
this  paragraph.] 


MTJNEKA  PULVERIS, 


communication,  and  knowing  for  their  master  of  guild, 
Hermes  the  herald,  instead  of  Mercury  the  gain-guarder. 

155.  And  now,  finally,  for  immediate  rule  to  all  who 
will  accept  it. 

' The  distress  of  any  population  means  that  they  need 
food,  house-room,  clothes,  and  fuel.  You  can  never, 
therefore,  be  wrong  in  employing  any  labourer  to  produce 
food,  house-room,  clothes,  or  fuel;  but  you  are  always 
wrong  if  you  employ  him  to  produce  nothing,  (for  then 
some  other  labourer  must  be  worked  double  time  to  feed 
him) ; and  you  are  generally  wrong,  at  present,  if  you 
employ  him  (unless  he  can  do  nothing  else)  to  produce 
works  of  art  or  luxuries  ; because  modern  art  is  mostly  on 
a false  basis,  and  modern  luxury  is  criminally  great.* 

* It  is  especially  necessary  tliat  the  reader  should  keep  his  mind  fixed 
on  the  methods  of  consumption  and  destruction,  as  the  true  sources  of 
national  poverty.  Men  are  apt  to  call  every  exchange  “expenditure,” 
but  it  is  only  consumption  which  is  expenditure.  A large  number  of  the 
purchases  made  by  the  richer  classes  are  mere  forms  of  interchange  of 
unused  property,  wholly  without  effect  on  national  prosperity.  It  mat 
ters  nothing  to  the  state  whether,  if  a china  pipkin  be  rated  as  worth  a 
hundred  pounds,  A has  the  pipkin  and  B the  pounds,  or  A the  pounds 
and  B the  pipkin.  But  if  the  pipkin  is  pretty,  and  A or  B breaks  it, 
there  is  national  loss,  not  otherwise.  So  again,  when  the  loss  has  really 
taken  place,  no  shifting  of  the  shoulders  that  bear  it  will  do  away  with 
the  reality  of  it.  There  is  an  intensely  ludicrous  notion  in  the  public 
mind  respecting  the  abolishment  of  debt  by  denyiag  it.  When  a debt 
is  denied,  the  lender  loses  instead  of  the  borrower,  that  is  all ; the  loss 
is  precisely,  accurately,  everlastingly  the  same.  The  Americans  borrow 
money  to  spend  in  blowing  up  their  own  houses.  They  deny  their  debt, 
by  one -third  already  [1863],  gold  being  at  fifty  premium  ; and  they  will 
probably  deny  it  wholly.  That  merely  means  that  the  holders  of  the 
notes  are  to  be  the  losers  instead  of  the  issuers.  The  quantity  of  loss 
is  precisely  equal,  and  irrevocable  ; it  is  the  quantity  of  human  industry 


mu:nera  ruLVERis. 


151 


156.  The  way  to  produce  more  food  is  mainly  to  bring 
in  fresh  ground,  and  increase  facilities  of  carriage; — to 
break  rock,  exchange  earth,  drain  the  moist,  and  water 
the  dry,  to  mend  roads,  and  build  harbours  of  refuge. 
Taxation  thus  spent  will  annihilate  taxation,  but  spent  in 
war,  it  annihilates  revenue. 

157.  The  way  to  produce  liouse-room  is  to  apply  your 
force  first  to  the  humblest  dwellings.  When  your  brick- 
layers are  out  of  employ,  do  not  build  splendid  new 
streets,  but  better  the  old  ones ; send  your  paviours  and 
slaters  to  the  poorest  villages,  and  see  tiiat  your  poor  are 
healthily  lodged,  before  you  try  your  hand  on  stately  archi- 
tecture. You  will  find  its  stateliness  rise  better  under  the 
trowel  afterw^ards ; and  we  do  not  yet  build  so  well  that 
we  need  hasten  to  display  our  skill  to  future  ages.  Had 
the  labour  which  has  decorated  the  Houses  of  Parliament 
filled,  instead,  rents  in  walls  and  roofs  throughout  the 
county  of  Middlesex  ; and  our  deputies  met  to  talk  within 
massive  walls  that  would  have  needed  no  stucco  for  five 
hundred  years, — the  decoration  might  have  been  after- 
wards, and  the  talk  now.  And  touching  even  our  highly 
conscientious  church  building,  it  may  be  well  to  remember 
that  in  the  best  days  of  church  plans,  their  masons  called 
themselves  logeurs  du  bon  Dieu  ; ” and  that  since,  accord- 
ing to  the  most  trusted  reports,  God  spends  a good  deal 


spent  in  effecting  the  explosion,  plus  the  quantity  of  goods  exploded. 
Honour  only  decides  wlw  shall  pay  the  sura  lost  not  whether  it  is  to  be 
paid  or  not.  Paid  it  raust  be,  and  to  the  uttermost  farthing. 


152 


MX'NEKA  PULVERIS. 


of  Ills  time  in  cottages  as  well  as  in  cliurches,  He  might 
perhaps  like  to  be  a little  better  lodged  there  also. 

158.  The  way  to  get  more  clothes  is — not,  necessarily, 
to  get  more  cotton.  There  were  words  written  twenty 
years  ago  * which  would  liaA^e  saved  many  of  us  some 
shivering,  had  they  been  minded  in  time.  Shall  we  read 
them  again  ? 

“ The  Continental  people,  it  would  seem,  are  importing 
our  machinery,  beginning  to  spin  cotton,  and  manufacture 
for  themselves  ; to  cut  us  out  of  this  market,  and  then  out 
of  that  ! Sad  news,  indeed  ; but  irremediable.  By  no 
means  the  saddest  news — the  saddest  news,  is  that  we 
should  find  our  national  existence,  as  I sometimes  hear  it 
said,  depend  on  selling  manufactured  cotton  at  a farthing 
an  ell  cheaper  than  any  other  people.  A most  narrow 
stand  for  a great  nation  to  base  itself  on ! A stand  which, 
with  all  the  Corn-law  abrogations  conceivable,  I do  not 
think  will  be  capable  of  enduring. 

- My  friends,  suppose  we  quitted  that  stand ; suppose 
we  came  honestly  down  from  it  and  said — ‘ This  is  our 
ininimum  of  cotton  prices ; we  care  not,  for  the  present,  to 
make  cotton  any  cheaper.  Do  you,  if  it  seem  so  blessed 
to  you,  make  cotton  cheaper.  Fill  your  lungs  with  cotton 
fur,  your  heart  with  copperas  fumes,  with  rage  and  mutiny ; 

[*  {Past  and  Present,  Cliap.  IX.  of  Third  Section.)  To  think  that 
for  these  twenty — now  twenty-six — years,  this  one  voice  of  Carlyle’s 
has  been  the  only  faithful  and  useful  utterance  in  all  England,  and 
has  sounded  through  all  these  years  in  vain ! See  Fors  Clamgera^ 
Letter  X.] 


MUNEKA  PULVEKIB. 


become  ye  the  general  gnomes  of  Europe,  slaves  of  the 
lamp!’  I admire  a nation  which  fancies  it  will  die  if  it 
do  not  undersell  all  other  nations  to  the  end  of  the  world. 
Brothers,  we  will  cease  to  undersell  them  ; we  will  he 
content  to  equal-sell  them  ; to  be  happy  selling  equally 
with  them  ! I do  not  see  the  use  of  underselling  them : 
cotton-cloth  is  already  twopence  a yard,  or  lower ; and  yet 
bare  backs  were  never  more  numerous  among  us.  Let 
inventive  men  cease  to  spend  their  existence  incessantly 
cjontrivdng  how  cotton  can  be  made  cheaper ; and  try  to 
invent  a little  how  cotton  at  its  present  cheapness  could  be 
somewhat  justlier  divided  among  us. 

“ Let  inventive  men  consider — whether  the  secret  of  this 
universe  does  after  all  consist  in  making  money.  With  a 
hell  which  means—  failing  to  make  money,’  I do  not  think 
there  is  any  heaven  possible  that  would  suit  one  well.  In 
brief,  all  this  Mammon  gospel  of  supply-and-demand,  com- 
petition, laissez  faire^  and  devil  take  the  hindmost  (fore- 
most, is  it  not,  rather,  Mr.  Carlyle?),  ‘begins  to  be  one  of 
the  shabbiest  gospels  ever  preached.’  ” 

159.  The  way  to  produce  more  fuel*^  is  first  to  make 
your  coal  mines  safer,  by  sinking  more  shafts ; then 
set  all  your  convicts  to  work  in  them,  and  if,  as  is  to  be 
hoped,  you  succeed  in  diminishing  the  supply  of  that 
sort  of  labourer,  consider  what  means  there  may  be,  first, 

[*  We  don’t  want  to  produce  more  fuel  just  now,  but  much  less;  and 
to  use  what  we  get  for  cooking  and  warming  ourselves,  instead  of  for 
running  from  place  to  place.] 

7* 


154 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


of  growing  forest  where  its  growth  will  improve  climate ; 
secondly,  of  splintering  the  forests  which  now  make  con- 
tinents of  fruitful  land  pathless  and  poisonous,  into  fagots 
for  fire ; — so  gaining  at  once  dominion  icewards  and  sun- 
wards. Your  steam  powder  has  been  given  (you  will  find 
eventually)  for  work  such  as  that : and  not  for  excursion 
trains,  to  give  the  labourer  a moment’s  breath,  at  the  peril 
of  his  breath  for  ever,  from  amidst  the  cities  which  it  has 
crushed  into  masses  of  corruption.  When  you  know  how 
to  build  cities,  and  how  to  rule  them,  you  will  be  able  to 
breathe  in  their  streets,  and  the  “ excursion  ” will  be  the 
afternoon’s  walk  or  game  in  tlie  fields  round  them. 

160.  “ But  nothing  of  this  work  will  pay  ? ” 

IS’o ; no  more  than  it  pays  to  dust  your  rooms,  or  wash 
your  doorsteps.  It  wdll  pay ; not  at  first  in  currency,  but 
in  that  which  is  the  end  and  the  source  of  currency, — in 
life  ; (and  in  currency  richly  afterwards).  It  will  pay  in 
that  which  is  more  than  life, — in  light,  whose  true  price 
has  not  yet  been  reckoned  in  any  currency,  and  yet  into 
the  image  of  which,  all  Avealth,  one  way  or  other,  must  be 
cast.  For  your  riches  must  either  be  as  the  lightning, 
which. 

Begot  but  in  a cloud, 

Though  shining  bright,  and  speaking  loud, 

Whilst  it  begins,  concludes  its  violent  race ; 

And,  where  it  gilds,  it  wounds  the  place  ; — 

or  else,  as  the  lightning  of  the  sacred  sign,  which  shines 
from  one  part  of  the  heaven  to  the  other.  There  is  no 


MUNERA  PULVERIS. 


155 


other  choice ; you  must  either  take  dust  for  deity,  spectre 
for  possession,  fettered  dream  for  life,  and  for  epitapli, 
this  reversed  verse  of  the  great  Hebrew  hymn  of  economy 
(Psalm  cxii.) : — “He  hath  gathered  together,  he  hath 
stripped  the  poor,  his  iniquity  remaineth  for  ever : ” — or 
else,  having  the  sun  of  justice  to  shine  on  you,  and  the 
sincere  substance  of  good  in  your  possession,  and  the  pure 
law  and  liberty  of  life  within  you,  leave  men  to  write  this 
better  legend  over  your  grave  : — 

“He  hath  dispersed  abroad.  He  hath  given  to  the 
poor.  His  righteousness  remaineth  for  ever.” 


APPEITDIOES. 


[I  HAVE  brought  together  in  these  last  pages  a few  notes, 
which  were  not  properly  to  be  incorporated  with  the  text, 
and  which,  at  the  bottom  of  pages,  checked  the  reader’s 
attention  to  the  main  argument.  They  contain,  however, 
several  statements  to  which  I wish  to  be  able  to  refer,  or 
have  already  referred,  in  other  of  my  books,  so  that  I 
think  right  to  preserve  them.] 


APPENDIX  L— (p.  6.) 

The  greatest  of  all  economists  are  those  most  opposed  to  the  doctrine 
of  “ laissez  faire,”  namely,  the  fortifying  virtues,  which  the  wisest 
men  of  all  time  have  arranged  under  the  general  heads  of  Prudence, 
or  Discretion  (the  spirit  which  discerns  and  adopts  rightly)  ; Justice 
(the  spirit  which  rules  and  divides  rightly) ; Fortitude  (the  spirit 
which  persists  and  endures  rightly);  and  Temperance  (the  spirit 
which  stops  and  refuses  rightly).  These  cardinal  and  sentinel  virtues 
are  not  only  the  means  of  protecting  and  prolonging  life  itself,  but 
they  are  the  chief  guards,  or  sources,  of  the  material  means  of  life, 
and  the  governing  powers  and  princes  of  economy.  Thus,  precisely 
according  to  the  number  of  just  men  in  a nation,  is  their  power  of 
avoiding  either  intestine  or  foreign  war.  All  disputes  may  be 


APPENDICES. 


157 


peaceably  settled,  if  a sufficient  number  of  persons  havg  been  trained 
to  submit  to  the  principles  of  justice,  while  the  necessity  for  war  is 
in  direct  ratio  to  the  number  of  unjust  persons  who  are  incapable 
of  determining  a quarrel  but  by  violence.  Whether  the  injustice 
take  the  form  of  the  desire  of  dominion,  or  of  refusal  to  submit  to 
it,  or  of  lust  of  territory,  or  lust  of  money,  or  of  mere  irregular 
passion  and  wanton  will,  the  result  is  economically  the  same ; — loss 
of  the  quantity  of  power  and  life  consumed  in  repressing  the  injus- 
tice, added  to  the  material  and  moral  destruction  caused  by  the  fact 
of  war.  The  early  civil  wars  of  England,  and  the  existing*  war  in 
America,  are  curious  examples — these  under  monarchical,  this  under 
republican,  institutions — of  the  results  on  large  masses  of  nations  of 
the  want  of  education  in  principles  of  justice.  But  the  mere  dread 
or  distrust  resulting  from  the  want  of  the  inner  virtues  of  Faith  and 
Charity  prove  often  no  less  costly  than  war  itself.  The  fear  wliich 
France  and  England  have  of  each  other  costs  each  nation  about 
fifteen  millions  sterling  annually,  besides  various  paralyses  of  com- 
merce; that  sum  being  spent  in  the  manufacture  of  means  of 
destruction  instead  of  means  of  production.  There  is  no  more 
^•eason  in  the  nature  of  things  that  France  and  England  should  be 
hostile  to  each  other  than  that  England  and  Scotland  should  be,  or 
Lancashire  and  Yorkshire ; and  the  reciprocal  ten-ors  of  the  opposite 
sides  of  the  English  Channel  are  neither  more  necessary,  more 
economical,  nor  more  virtuous,  than  the  old  riding  and  reiving  on 
the  opposite  flanks  of  the  Cheviots,  or  than  England’s  own  weaving 
for  herself  of  crowns  of  thorn,  from  the  stems  of  her  Red  and 
White  roses. 

[*  Written  in  1862.  I little  thought  that  when  I next  corrected  my 
type,  the  ‘ ‘ existing  ” war  best  illustrative  of  the  sentence,  would  be 
between  Frenchmen  in  the  Elysian  Fields  of  Paris.] 


153 


APPENDICES. 


APPENDIX  n.— (p.  26.) 

Pew  passages  of  the  book  which  at  least  some  part  of  the  nations 
at  present  most  advanced  in  civilization  accept  as  an  expression  of 
final  truth,  have  been  more  distorted  than  those  bearing  on  Idolatry. 
For  the  idolatry  there  denounced  is  neither  sculpture,  nor  veneration 
of  sculpture.  It  is  simply  the  substitution  of  an  “Eidolon,”  phan- 
tasm, or  imagination  of  Good,  for  that  which  is  real  and  enduring ; 
from  the  Highest  Living  Good,  which  gives  life,  to  the  lowest 
material  good  wMch  ministers  to  it.  The  Creator,  and  the  things 
created,  which  He  is  said  to  have  “ seen  good  ” in  creating,  are  in 
this  their  eternal  goodness  appointed  always  to  be  “ worshipped,” — 
?.  to  have  goodness  and  worth  ascribed  to  them  from  the  heart; 
and  the  sweep  and  range  of  idolatry  extend  to  the  rejection  of  any 
or  all  of  these,  “ calling  evil  good,  and  good  evil, — putting  bitter 
for  sweet,  and  sweet  for  bitter.”  * For  in  that  rejection  and  substi- 
tution we  betray  the  first  of  all  Loyalties,  to  the  fixed  Law  of  life, 
and  with  resolute  opposite  loyalty  serve  our  own  imagination  of 
good,  which  is  the  law,  not  of  the  House,  but  of  the  Grave,  (other- 
wise called  the  law  of  “ mark  missing,”  which  we  translate  “ law  of 
Sin  ”) ; these  “ two  masters,”  between  whose  services  we  have  to 
choose,  being  otherwise  distinguished  as  God  and  Mammon,  which 
Mammon,  though  we  narrowly  take  it  as  the  power  of  money  only,  is 
in  truth  the  great  evil  Spirit  of  false  and  fond  desire,  or  “ Covetous- 
ness, which  is  Idolatry.”  So  that  Iconoclasm — ^zma^e-breaking — is 
easy ; but  an  Idol  cannot  be  broken — it  must  be  forsaken ; and  this 
is  not  so  easy,  either  to  do,  or  persuade  to  doing.  For  men  may 
readily  be  convinced  of  the  weakness  of  an  image ; but  not  of  the 
emptiness  of  an  imagination. 

* Compare  the  close  of  the  Fourth  Lecture  in  Aratra  Pent  did. 


APPENDICES. 


159 


APPENDIX  IIL— (p.  30.) 

I HAVE  not  attempted  to  support,  by  the  authority  of  other  writers, 
any  of  the  statements  made  in  these  papers  ; indeed,  if  sueh  authori- 
ties were  rightly  collected,  there  would  be  no  occasion  for  my 
writing  at  all.  Even  in  the  scattered  passages  referring  to  this 
subject  in  three  books  of  Carlyle’s — Sartor  Kesartus,  Past  and 
Present,  and  the  Latter  Day  Pamphlets, — aU  has  been  said  that 
needs  to  be  said,  and  far  better  than  I shall'  ever  say  it  again.  But 
the  habit  of  the  public  mind  at  present  is  to  require  everytliing  to 
be  uttered  diffusely,  loudly,  and  a hundred  times  over,  before  it  will 
listen ; and  it  has  revolted  against  these  papers  of  mine  as  if  they 
contained  things  daring  and  new,  when  there  is  not  one  assertion  in 
them  of  which  the  truth  has  not  been  for  ages  known  to  the  wisest, 
and  proclaimed  by  the  most  eloquent  of  men.  It  would  be  [I  had 
written  will  be ; but  have  now  reached  a time  of  life  for  which  there 
is  but  one  mood — the  conditional,]  a far  greater  pleasure  to  mo 
hereafter,  to  collect  their  words  than  to  add  to  mine ; Horace’s  clear 
rendering  of  the  substance  of  the  passages  in  the  text  may  be  found 
room  for  at  once. 

Si  quis  emat  citharas,  emptas  comportet  in  unum 
Nec  studio  citharae,  nec  Musae  deditus  ulli ; 

Si  scalpra  et  formas  non  sutor,  nautica  vela 
Aversus  mercaturis,  delirus  et  amens 
TJndique  dicatur  merito.  Qui  discrepat  istis 
Qui  nummos  aurumqiie  recondit,  nescius  uti 
Compositis  ; metuensque  velut  contingere  sacrum  ? 

[Which  may  be  roughly  thus  translated: — 

“ Were  anybody  to  buy  fiddles,  and  collect  a number,  being  in  no 
wise  given  to  fiddling,  nor  fond  of  music : or  if,  being  no  cobbler, 
he  collected  awls  and  lasts,  or,  having  no  mind  for  sea-adventure, 
bought  sails,  every  one  would  call  him  a madman,  and  deservedly. 


160 


APPENDICES- 


But  what  difference  is  there  between  such  a man  and  one  who  lays 
by  coins  and  gold,  and  does  not  know  how  to  use,  when  he  has  got 
them  ? ”] 

With  which  it  is  perhaps  desirable  also  to  give  Xenophon’s  state- 
ment, it  being  clearer  than  any  English  one  can  be,  owing  to  the 
power  of  the  general  Greek  term  for  wealth,  “ useable  things.” 

[I  have  cut  out  the  Greek  because  I can’t  be  troubled  to  correct 
the  accents,  and  am  always  nervous  about  them;  here  it  is  in 
English,  as  well  as  I can  do  it : — 

“This  being  so,  it  follows  that  things  are  only  property  to  tlie 
man  who  knows  how  to  use  them ; as  flutes,  for  instance,  are  pro- 
perty to  the  man  who  can  pipe  upon  them  respectably ; but  to  pne 
who  knows  not  how  to  pipe,  they  are  no  property,  unless  he  can  get 
lid  of  them  advantageously.  . . For  if  they  are  not  sold,  the 

flutes  are  no  property  (being  serviceable  for  nothing) ; but,  sold,  they 
become  property.  To  which  Socrates  made  answer, — ‘and  only 
then  if  he  knows  how  to  sell  them,  for  if  he  sell  them  to  anothei 
man  who  cannot  play  on  them,  still  they  are  no  property.’  ”] 


APPENDIX  IV.— (p.  34.) 

The  reader  is  to  include  here  in  the  idea  of  “ Government,”  any 
branch  of  the  Executive,  or  even  any  body  of  private  pemons, 
entrusted  with  the  practical  management  of  public  interests  uncon- 
nected directly  with  their  own  personal  ones.  In  theoretical  discus- 
sions of  legislative  interference  with  political  economy,  it  is  usually, 
and  of  course  unnecessarily,  assumed  that  Government  must  be 
always  of  that  forai  and  force  in  which  we  have  been  accustomed  to 
see  it ; — that  its  abuses  can  never  be  less,  nor  its  wisdom  greater,  nor 


APPENDICES. 


101 


its  powers  more  numerous.  But,  jjractically,  the  custom  in  most 
civilized  countries  is,  for  every  man  to  deprecate  the  interference  of 
Govermnent  as  long  as  things  tell  for  his  personal  advantage,  and  to 
call  for  it  when  they  cease  to  do  so.  The  request  of  the  Manchester 
Economists  to  be  supplied  with  cotton  by  Government  (the  system 
of  supply  and  demand  having,  for  the  time,  fallen  sorrowfully  short 
of  the  expectations  of  scientific  persons  from  it),  is  an  interesting 
case  in  point.  It  were  to  be  wished  that  less  wide  and  bitter  suffering, 
suffering,  too,  of  the  innocent,  had  been  needed  to  force  the  nation, 
or  some  part  of  it,  to  ask  itself  why  a body  of  men,  already  con- 
fessedly capable  of  managing  matters  both  military  and  divine, 
should  not  be  permitted,  or  even  requested,  at  need,  to  provide  in 
some  wise  for  sustenance  as  well  as  for  defence ; and  secure,  if  it 
might  be, — (and  it  might,  I think,  even  the  rather  be), — purity  of 
bodily,  as  well  as  of  spiritual,  aliment  ? Why,  having  made  many 
roads  for  the  passage  of  armies,  may  they  not  make  a few  for  the 
conveyance  of  food ; and  after  organizing,  with  applause,  various 
schemes  of  theological  instruction  for  the  Public,  organize,  more- 
over, some  methods  of  bodily  nourishment  for  them  ? Or  is  the  soul 
BO  much  less  trustworthy  in  its  instincts  than  the  stomach,  that  legis- 
lation is  necessary  for  the  one,  but  inapplicable  to  the  other. 


APPENDIX  V.— (p.  90.) 

I DEBATED  with  myself  whether  to  make  the  note  on  Homer  longer 
by  examining  the  typical  meaning  of  the  shipwreck  of  Ulysses,  and 
his  escape  from  Charybdis  by  help  of  her  figtree ; but  as  I should 
have  had  to  go  on  to  the  lovely  myth  of  Leucothea’s  veil,  and  did  not 
care  to  spoil  this  by  a hurried  account  of  it,  I left  it  for  future  exami- 


162 


APPENDICES. 


nation ; and,  three  days  after  the  paper  was  published,  obseiwed  that 
the  reviewers,  with  their  customary  helpfulness,  were  endeavouring 
to  throw  the  whole  subject  back  into  confusion  by  dwelling  on  this 
single  (as  they  imagined)  oversight.  I omitted  also  a note  on  the 
sense  of  the  word  kvyi)6r,  with  respect  to  the  pharmacy  of  Circe,  and 
herb-fields  of  Helen,  (compare  its  use  in  Odyssey,  xvii.,  473,  &c.), 
which  would  farther  have  illustrated  the  nature  of  the  Circean  power. 
But,  not  to  be  led  too  far  into  the  subtleties  of  these  myths,  '.>?:>serve 
respecting  them  all,  that  even  in  very  simple  parables,  it  is  not  always 
easy  to  attach  indisputable  meaning  to  every  part  of  them.  I recol- 
lect some  years  ago,  throAving  an  assembly  of  learned  persons  who 
had  met  to  delight  themselves  with  interpretations  of  the  parable  of 
the  prodigal  son,  (interpretations  which  had  up  to  that  moment  gone 
very  smoothly,)  into  mute  indignation,  by  inadvertently  asking  who 
the  t^rtprodigal  son  was,  and  what  was  to  be  learned  by  hU  example. 
The  leading  divine  of  the  company,  Mr.  Molyneux,  at  last  explained 
to  me  that  the  unprodigal  son  was  a lay  figure,  put  in  for  dramatic 
etfect,  to  make  the  story  prettier,  and  that  no  note  was  to  be  taken 
of  him.  Without,  however,  admitting  that  Homer  put  in  the  last 
escape  of  Ulysses  merely  to  make  his  story  prettier,  this  is  neverthe- 
less true  of  all  Creek  myths,  that  they  have  many  opposite  lights  and 
shades ; they  are  as  changeful  as  opal,  and  like  opal,  usually  have 
one  colour  by  reflected,  and  another  by  transmitted  light.  But  they 
are  true  jewels  for  all  that,  and  full  of  noble  enchantment  for  those 
vdio  can  use  them ; for  those  who  cannot,  I am  content  to  repeat  the 
words  I wrote  four  years  ago,  in  the  appendix  to  the  Two  Paths — 

“ The  entire  purpose  of  a great  thinker  may  be  difiicult  to  fathom, 
and  we  may  be  over  and  over  again  more  or  less  mistaken  in  guessing 
at  his  meaning ; but  the  real,  profound,  nay,  quite  bottomless  and 
unredeemable  mistake,  is  the  fool’s  thought,  that  he  had  wo  meaning.” 


APPENDICES. 


163 


APPENDIX  VL— (p.  104.) 

The  derivation  of  words  is  like  that  of  rivers:  there  is  one  real 
source,  usually  small,  unlikely,  and  difficult  to  find,  far  up  among 
the  hills ; then,  as  the  word  fiows  on  and  comes  into  service,  it  takes 
in  the  force  of  other  words  from  other  sources,  and  becomes  quite 
another  word — often  much  more  than  one  word,  after  the  junction — ■ 
a word  as  it  were  of  many  waters,  sometimes  both  sweet  and  bitter. 
Thus  the  wliole  force  of  our  English  “ charity”  depends  on  the  gut- 
tural in  “ chans  ” getting  confused  with  the  c of  the  Latin  “ earns;  ” 
thenceforward  throughout  the  middle  ages,  the  two  ideas  ran  on  to- 
gether, and  both  got  confused  with  St.  Paul’s  ayaTtr],  which  expresses 
a different  idea  in  all  sorts  of  ways ; our  “ charity  ” having  not  only 
brought  in  the  entirely  foreign  sense  of  almsgiving,  but  lost  the  es- 
sential sense  of  contentment,  and  lost  much  more  in  getting  too  far 
away  from  the  “charis”  of  the  final  Gospel  benedictions.  For  truly 
it  is  fine  Christianity  we  have  come  to,  which,  professing  to  expect 
the  perpetual  grace  or  charity  of  its  Pounder,  has  not  itself  grace  or 
charity  enough  to  hinder  it  from  overreaching  its  friends  in  sixpenny 
bargains ; and  which,  supplicating  evening  and  morning  the  forgive- 
ness of  its  own  debts,  goes  forth  at  noon  to  take  its  fellow-servants 
by  the  throat,  sajfing, — -not  merely  “ Pay  me  that  thou  owest,”  but 
“ Pay  me  that  thou  owest  me  woi.” 

It  is  true  that  we  sometimes  wear  Ophelia’s  rue  with  a difference, 
and  call  it  “ Herb  o’  grace  o’  Sundays,”  taking  consolation  out  of 
the  offertory  with — •“  Look,  what  he  layeth  out,  it  shall  be  paid  him 
again.”  Comfortable  words  indeed,  and  good  to  set  against  the  old 
royalty  of  Largesse — 

Whose  moste  joie  was,  I ■vvis, 

When  that  she  gave,  and  said,  “ Have  this.” 

[I  am  glad  to  end,  for  this  time,  with  these  lovely  words  of  Chau- 


104 


APPENDICES. 


cer.  We  have  heard  only  too  much  lately  of  “Indiscriminate  cha- 
rity,” with  implied  reproval,  not  of  the  Indiscrimination  merely,  but 
of  the  Charity  also.  We  have  partly  succeeded  in  enforcing  on  the 
minds  of  the  poor  the  idea  that  it  is  disgraceful  to  receive ; and  are 
likely,  without  much  difficulty,  to  succeed  in  persuading  not  a few 
of  the  rich  that  it  is  disgraceful  to  give.  But  the  political  economy 
of  a great  state  makes  both  giving  and  receiving  graceful ; and  the 
political  economy  of  true  religion  interprets  the  saying  that  “it  is 
more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive,”  not  as  the  promise  of  reward 
in  another  life  for  mortified  selfishness  in  this,  but  as  pledge  of  be- 
stowal upon  us  of  that  sweet  and  better  nature,  which  does  not  mor- 
tify itself  in  givmg.] 

Brantwood,  Coniston, 
bt7i  October^  1871. 


r 


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